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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213294">Darling, won't you help me heal my mind?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpobsessed/pseuds/pulpobsessed'>pulpobsessed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Post-OMW, Star Wars Fans, Teenage Drama, dealing with attempted suicide, dealing with depression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:35:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>138,006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpobsessed/pseuds/pulpobsessed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Karofsky, after coming through hell, finds that sometimes you do get a happy ending. At least for a little while.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Karofsky/Chris Michaels(OC), Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Paul Karofsky/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue - I wanna love you like I've ever loved anyone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning: Mentions of a past suicide attempt, mentions of drug use, mentions of drinking</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>{February 2021}</p><p>The bedroom was completely dark. The heavy drapes were pulled tightly together, preventing any errant rays of sunlight from breaking into what was clearly a sanctuary of sleep. The room was silent and still, barely any sound...just the deep steady breathing of someone fast asleep.</p><p>The bedroom’s warmly decorated - painted a light chocolate brown with a dark brown trim. The furniture is all stained in dark chocolate tones giving the space a rich and distinctly masculine feel - modern and tasteful. The whole room is dominated by a huge king sized wood frame bed - definitely not something bought at Ikea, but probably at some small Mennonite furniture store in Virginia or Maine. It’s covered by a large duvet, sheathed in a dark grey cover. On either side of the bed, two night stands each hold a small lamp, a couple photo frames, and a small pile of books. Tucked away in one corner of the room is a large plush chair, with a tall reading light behind it and a small table next to it, which had its own pile of books and a long forgotten mug of tea. Along one wall is the door to a walk-in closet. On the opposite wall, next to the bed, the entry to the en-suite bathroom.   </p><p>Hung directly above the bed was a vintage Star Wars poster, professionally framed, and directly across from, beneath a very expensive dresser, a 40-inch flat screen television. Littered throughout the room, are dozens of personal photographs. On the bed-side tables.  On the dresser. On the table next to the chair. And mounted on the wall throughout the room.  </p><p>Pictures of a larger, muscular man smiling at the camera. Photos with his father, proudly hugging his son. Photos with his best friend, both hamming it up for the camera. Photos with his lover - a shorter, stockier man. There are a number of photos of them shirtless on a sandy beach, both holding fancy looking tropical drinks. Photos of them dressed in suits, standing on the steps of the Kennedy Center. Photos of them sitting on a dock at a cottage somewhere, arms wrapped around each other - looking out over a lake. And, in every one, both men look as though they’d won the lottery.  </p><p>It was the room of someone who has a very happy life.  A comfortable life. A life filled with joy and love and a deep sense of contentment. A life that one does not take for granted. And, indeed, Dave Karofsky never took it for granted...not one minute of it.</p><p>And now, as Dave rolled over to burrow even deeper into his pillows and duvet, he allowed that deep sense of comfort and love envelop him. He pressed his face into the pillows and smiled in his sleep, the sleepy smile of a man who was happy to wake up - because he had so much to wake up for.  </p><p>Only…</p><p>(Oh...fuck…)</p><p>...maybe not so much this morning. </p><p>Even in his mostly unconscious state, Dave could feel the intense hangover at the very edges of his brain...a hangover that was sure to practically incapacitate him once he’d fully woken up. Dave pressed his face into his pillow, moaning slightly. He could feel the push of consciousness starting...starting to yank him out of his perfectly wonderful sleep. Starting to pull him straight into his hangover - like a freight train bearing down on him. Forcing him to face his own fucking stupidity from the night before.  </p><p>Dave opened one eye. You could practically hear the flesh of his eye lid rasping against his eyeball...that was never good.  </p><p>He found himself staring right into the pillow. After a brief moment of panic over the loss of his eyesight, Dave realized he was blind only because his face was pressed into the pillow, so he slowly angled his head. Once he blinked the momentary blurriness away, he managed to get a clear view of his bedside table. He slowly inched his hand out from beneath the covers, probing to find his phone - his hand closed over the sleek rectangle, pulling it towards him, he pressed the power button. </p><p>A rectangle of light exploded in his face - he almost screamed in pain. Slowly, his vision cleared and he could see his lock screen - an image of Darth Vader - with the time brightly glaring him in the face. 3:00.</p><p>Dave groaned, dropping the phone onto the mattress and turned his head back into the pillow - this time relishing the darkness. It was early, so he could easily go back to sleep.</p><p>Although…hold on a second. How could it be three o’clock...he went to bed at 3:15 in the morning, didn’t he? And time didn’t move backwards, did it?  Plus he was sure he’d been asleep.</p><p>Unless...</p><p>Oh. Holy. Fuck. It was three in the afternoon.</p><p>He shifted his body again - his body protesting loudly.  This time he was facing the opposite direction.  The other side of the bed was empty.  </p><p>Crap.</p><p>Three in the afternoon.  Alone in bed.  Yeah...this was bad. </p><p>Dave tried to sit up, but the moment he did his brain exploded into a million tiny pinpoints of light and pain. They rolled past his vision, effectively blinding him. His mouth instantly went dry and a long painful shudder, starting in his stomach, shook his entire body. He couldn’t help the involuntary moan of pain that escaped his lips. As the sound broke out into the silent bedroom, it ricocheted back, slamming painfully into his brain, practically knocking him flat again.</p><p>Dave slowly let himself fall back against the sheets and pillows.</p><p>As he did, he suddenly became aware of the rest of his body. Besides the constant dull ache in every joint and muscle, he was covered in dried sticky sweat - the kind that you only get after a night of hard drinking.  And the sheets - their best sheets - were actually sticking to his skin.  </p><p>Plus, his mouth definitely tasted like vomit.  </p><p>He did a quick check of his body - he was naked...so he had either gotten or been undressed at some point. His chest hair was matted down with gross drunk sweat. And his skin had a dull sheen to it, even his tattoos had lost their luster, now looking like cheap body paint. And...oh god!...was that vomit clinging to his chest hair? “Oh...god!”  Even his voice sounded hoarse and disgusting.  </p><p>He suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Either that or rewind the last 24 hours and stop himself from agreeing to...whatever it was that he agreed to.  </p><p>Dave slowly screwed his eyes closed - even his eyelids hurt.  How was that even possible?</p><p>Dave turned his head and whimpered into his pillow. Why did he say yes to going out? Why did he say yes to celebratory...shots?  Shots of...whatever the fuck that was...?</p><p>Oh no! A new panic filled thought suddenly loomed large in his head - he had vomited. It was now late afternoon. Which meant that it was entirely possible that he had not gotten up in time to take his pill! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! </p><p>Why did he always...</p><p>Suddenly all thought evaporated as a cool hand started stroking his forehead, a hand that was quickly replaced by a very cold washcloth. Dave moaned at the sensation. The feeling of the cold cloth against his overheated and sweaty skin was amazing. His moan quickly morphed into a whimper.  </p><p>As he opened his eyes, Dave found himself staring into the concerned filled grey-green eyes of his boyfriend, Chris Michaels.</p><p>“Here.” Chris held up a bottle of Gatorade with a straw. “Drink this.”  </p><p>Dave nodded and pulled the straw into his lips. As the powdery tasting liquid filled his throat, Dave thought he was going to vomit, again. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to swallow as much as he could.  The sensation of the icy liquid going down his throat actually felt amazing...he hadn’t realized he was so thirsty.  </p><p>After drinking for about thirty seconds straight,  Dave pulled back from the straw. He let himself look back up at Chris, fearing he would find judgment there. Instead, all he found was sympathy and love.  </p><p>“You’re here.”  Dave croaked out.  </p><p>“Of course I am. I live here. Where else would I be?” Chris used the washcloth to wipe off Dave’s cheeks as well.  </p><p>“Dunno...running away from your drunkard boyfriend?”</p><p>“Oh hush. You’re being over-dramatic again. I was drunk last night too...no where close to you, but certainly drunk.”</p><p>“How bad was I?” Dave let his eyes close again, relishing the sensation of the cool washcloth against his forehead.  </p><p>“Pretty bad...”</p><p>“Did I throw up?”</p><p>Chris grimaced. “I’ve never seen quite that much vomit.”</p><p>“Oh god...I’m so sorry.” Dave let his head fall back against the pillows again, sending a sharp pain across his brain. He groaned,</p><p>“It’s ok...really”</p><p>Dave groaned again. </p><p>“Dave...really, it’s ok.  I’m not upset. You deserved last night. I mean, how often are you going to be able to celebrate becoming head of LGBTQ health at the Department of Public Health?”</p><p>Dave grunted - a small smile growing on his lips. “I kicked ass at that interview didn’t I?”</p><p>He heard Chris laugh softly as he climbed onto the bed, stretching out next to Dave. “You kicked ass! Fuck, you did better than kick ass...you did things to that job inteview that guys at the Eagle would be embarrassed to talk about!”</p><p>Dave stifled a laugh, mainly because it would have hurt too much to laugh. “Fuck off.” </p><p>“I’m really proud of you, babe…” Chris’ voice got soft and hesitant. “Even if you did try to stick your tongue down Jeff’s throat. And then vomited in our front hallway.”</p><p>“I what!?” Dave nearly pushed himself up again, until his body reminded him that lying down still was his best bet to avoid any further vomiting.</p><p>“Don’t worry...Jeff thought it was funny. And the vomit wasn’t too hard to clean up. Course, you did vomit a lot in the bathroom too.”</p><p>“Oh god...Kill me.”</p><p>“Nah. I love you too much to do that. How about I just file it in the back of my head to use against you as I see fit?”</p><p>“I think that’s actually worse. How did I get so bad anyways?”</p><p>“I ordered champagne and I think you lost track of what you were drinking. I’m sorry?”</p><p>“So, I can blame you for how I’m feeling?”</p><p>“No. I ordered one glass, you ordered the next five.” </p><p>“Damn. I’m an idiot. I always forget I can’t drink heavily.”</p><p>“I was there to look after you, don’t worry. And you say crazy. I say sex maniac. ”  </p><p>“What did I do?”</p><p>“Tried to hump me outside the bar...for starters.”</p><p>“For starters?  Oh....Chris...I...”</p><p>“Shush. If you had actually been able to stand up and, you know, not sound like you were some kind of bad Bob Dylan impersonator, I would totally have gone for it.”</p><p>Dave, risking disaster, rolled onto his side and snuggled closer to Chris. He opened his eyes and looked up at the other man. “Thank you for looking after me.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. And I’ll always look after you.”</p><p>“Chris…” Dave’s voice is a little more hesitant. </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“I didn’t forget to take my pill did I?”</p><p>“I woke you up at nine and made you take it.”</p><p>“And I didn’t throw it up?”</p><p>“Nope - it stayed down.” </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“I knew you’d kill me if I let you miss a dose.” </p><p>Dave pressed his face into Chris’ chest and sighed. He smiled against the soft fabric of Chris’ shirt. As he lay there, soaking up his boyfriend’s scent, he remembered what he’d seen when he’d looked at the time earlier. Oh fuck. It was February 14th. Fuck.</p><p>“Fuck!”</p><p>“What’s wrong?”  Chris asked.</p><p>“It’s Valentine’s Day.”</p><p>“Yes, I do believe it is.” </p><p>“I ruined Valentine’s Day.”</p><p>“No you didn’t!” Chris laughed. “Besides, you hate Valentine’s Day.”  </p><p>“Well, yeah...but that doesn’t mean that I should be so hungover that I’m still in bed at three in the afternoon on a day I should be spending with you.”</p><p>“So, get up. And come hang out with me.”</p><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p>“Watching TV.”</p><p>“See...you’re not supposed to be just watching TV alone today. We should be doing something romantic!”</p><p>“Dave...really...you were celebrating getting a big new job yesterday! You are allowed to be hungover! I’m not mad at  you...plus, you hate Valentine’s Day!”</p><p>“Promise you’re not mad.”</p><p>“Yes. I promise. I really do. But if you want to come join me on the couch, I’d like that.”</p><p>“OK. What are you watching?”</p><p>“You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?”</p><p>“What are you watching?” Dave tried to push himself up slightly, a look of amusement passing over his face. </p><p>“The Walking Dead.”</p><p>“That show’s so bad! And depressing. I don’t get how you still like it.”</p><p>“I like the zombies...plus, I still love the comics. Come on...you can protect me from the scary zombies. Or we can watch a movie.” </p><p>“Can I pick?”</p><p>“No. Because you feel like crap, which means you’re gonna want to watch Star Wars.”</p><p>“It makes me feel better. We can watch Force Awakens...you liked that one.”</p><p>“Just get up! We can pick together. And I’ll order us Thai for for dinner...hot and sour soup always makes you feel better.”  </p><p>Chris pushed himself up off the bed and started towards the door leading to the rest of the apartment.  </p><p>“Chris!” Dave called softly from the bed.  </p><p>“Yeah, babe.”  Chris turned around in the doorway, even with the room bathed in shadow, Dave could see the smile on the man’s face.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“I know.”  </p><p>“Don’t quote Star Wars unless you’re going to let me watch it!”</p><p>*********************************</p><p>“I just don’t get how you find this movie entertaining...” Dave let his head flop back against the pile of cushions that he was propped up against on the couch. “Even the dialogue is bad.” </p><p>“I just do. And this is coming from the man who can quote The Phantom Menace...so I refuse  your criticism. Now hush up.” Chris shot back from where he was lying in-between Dave’s legs, with his head against Dave’s chest.  </p><p>“I needed to own the whole series - and I don’t know all the dialogue…”</p><p>“Liar! The last time you watched it, I saw you mouthing along every line!”</p><p>“Well...you know what, never mind, I won’t justify myself to you. And...hey! You’re not even watching the movie. You have your eyes closed.”</p><p>“I don’t need to see it to know what’s going on.”</p><p>“It makes no sense...”</p><p>“You say the same thing about your movies all the time. And you agreed to watch Dune...so stop complaining.”</p><p>“I like complaining.”  </p><p>“David...Dune is one of my favorite movies. You wanted to watch science fiction, and when I suggested this you said yes. So, hush!”</p><p>“I’m the one suffering...”</p><p>“I have no sympathy for you. None at all.”</p><p>“Whatever, you sandworm!”</p><p>“I will smack  you, hungover or not!” </p><p>“I’m sorry.” </p><p>“You’re so easy to pushover.” </p><p>“That’s just cause it’s you. Can you pass me my soup...with you lying on top of me, I can’t reach it.”</p><p>Chris sighed in false exasperation as he heaved himself off the sofa, grabbing the soup container. </p><p>“Here. Are you feeling better?”</p><p>“Yeah. I am...my head still feels like someone is building a set of condos in there...but other than that, I’m ok.” </p><p>Chris turned over and pressed his lips to Dave’s forehead. “I’m sorry sweetheart.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Dave grinned at his boyfriend.  He reached out and ran a hand slowly across Chris’ face. Chris’ eyes fluttered shut at the sensation and then turned his head to press a kiss against Dave’s palm.  </p><p>“Can we watch the rest of the movie now?”  Chris said, smiling.</p><p>“Yeah yeah...I’ll try to be quiet. I just don’t get why Sting is in this...”</p><p>“And I don’t get how you can watch Star Wars every year, when you know every single line...every single one...so can we call it even?” </p><p>“Yeah. Fine. And…”</p><p>“Please can you not go into your whole thing about how Star Wars is a perfect movie and stands the test of time and is an allegory for blah blah blah…”</p><p>“I wasn’t…”</p><p>Chris jabbed him in the stomach. </p><p>“Okay, I was. And fine, watch your weird desert movie. But after this, I’m watching Rogue One or The Avengers.”</p><p>“Whatever, Dave-osaurus. And I vote for Avengers - just for Chris Evans’ ass.” Chris turned back around and settled himself back against Dave’s chest. Dave wrapped an arm around Chris, hugging him tightly. With the other, he took a drink of his soup.  </p><p>He was constantly blown away by his life. By the life he got to live every single day. He was floored that he had this person in his life. There were days when all this...it just seemed so surreal.</p><p>Four years...they’d been together for four years. Dave couldn’t help but flash to four years ago, when he had been a lonely grad student, desperately in need of a break from work. It was a break that would forever change his life... </p><p>*********************</p><p>{2017}</p><p>He tossed his pen down in frustration - tired of reading the same five sentences over and over again for the last hour. Nothing was going on - nothing of worth anyways. </p><p>Dave was tired. Burnt out even. </p><p>He sighed and flipped the cover closed on yet another giant public health document. Dave was at the end of his Master’s  in Public Policy at Georgetown, and was currently interning at the US Public Health Service Department - having scored a spot on the committee for LGBTQ teens. Plus, he’d managed to get a spot on a joint think tank between the university and the Office for Civil Rights; mostly in the hopes of landing a job offer there once he graduated. This wasn’t quite the career in law that his dad had - secretly - hoped for...but it was damn close, which his dad told him when he saw him almost every weekend. </p><p>Dave glanced at the tiny antique alarm clock on his desk, it was a quarter to six at night. Normally, at this time on a Wednesday evening, Dave would be visiting his dad, doing his laundry and working on a paper. Tonight, however, he’d begged off, despite the promise of his dad’s current obsession with tacos, to hole up in his tiny apartment reading for tomorrow’s committee meeting - which was what he’d been trying to do for the last hour. But it just wasn’t happening - he’d had enough. He needed to get out of here - get out away from these four walls. </p><p>Glancing at his laptop - where the screen saver alternated between a shot of his calendar and a shot of the Millennium Falcon nose diving into an ancient Star Destroyer - he saw his salvation.    Weeks ago, he’d made a note about a book signing at Books for America in Dupont Circle by his latest fantasy obsession, N.K. Jemisin. He could go - geek out, meet an awesome author and maybe browse or grab a coffee before coming home and finishing reading this damn report. So, Dave grabbed his jacket, shoved his copy of The Fifth Season into his messenger bag and raced out the door.   </p><p>As he hurried towards the closest Metro station, Dave felt decidedly naughty.  </p><p>The signing, plus an amazing Q&amp;A, had lasted about two hours and, as the store cleared of people, Dave decided to continue browsing - relishing in a night of freedom (or procrastination).  As he browsed the Star Wars books, contemplating buying himself the latest one he hadn’t read, someone cleared his throat behind him.  </p><p>Dave turned around to face a stocky blond man wearing glasses. The man was short, but built like a linebacker...which usually makes shorter men appear overweight, but somehow managed to work perfectly for this guy. His hair was very short - nearly a buzz-cut. He wore a pair of thin framed black glass, which actually drew attention to the startling grey-green shade of his eyes.  Eyes that took Dave’s breath away...they were deep and soulful and utterly beautiful.  </p><p>Dave didn’t bother to stop the grin that was forming on his face.  </p><p>The guy, however, was clearly too nervous to even notice...he kept shifting his weight between his feet and twisting his hands together.  </p><p>He took a deep breath and then stammered out, “H-h-hello.”</p><p>“Hi.” Dave smiled.  It was clear that this guy had been working up the nerve to say hello for a while, so he decided to help him out with a simple “How are you?” In the years since moving to Washington, Dave had gotten very comfortable talking to guys. Which was a remarkable change from the shy, introverted and anxious guy he’d been back in 2012. He still hated the cold open - which is what this guy was facing.  </p><p>“I’m ok.  I...um...I really liked your question.” The poor guy looked like he was going to pass out soon. </p><p>“Oh? You were at the signing?”</p><p>“Yeah...I really liked her series about the assassins, so I wanted to hear her talk before I started her new series.”</p><p>“She’s awesome. I haven’t read anything but The Fifth Season yet though.”</p><p>“Oh! You should!” The guy gave a small awkward giggle. “So, uh, are you a sci-fi fan?”  He gestured towards the book in Dave’s hand.  </p><p>“Yeah. I am. Big Star Wars fan. Always have been.” </p><p>“Cool - I’m more a fantasy or comic book guy myself.”</p><p>“Comics are awesome!” Dave grinned.  “I have a huge collection of Batman stuff at home.” </p><p>“Cool. Fan of Batgirl?” The guy blurted out the question, as though desperately seeking for some common ground between them. </p><p>Dave smiled at the obvious attempt to keep the conversation going. Having been there dozens of times himself, Dave knew how nerve wracking this kind of thing could be. So, nodding happily, Dave replied “Of course. I’d have to be dumb not to be.” (Despite the fact that he’d maybe read like three issues of anything related to Batgirl.)  </p><p>“Barbara Gordon or Stephanie Brown?”</p><p>Dave remembers the name Gordon...or was he just remembering Gary Oldman in the Batman movies....still, worth a try. “Barbara Gordon all the way!”</p><p>The guy nodded at this...contemplating it for a moment.  Then, smiling as though he deemed the response acceptable, he held out his hand.  “I’m Chris, by the way.”</p><p>“And I’m Dave. It’s nice to meet you.” Dave put out his own hand, which was engulfed by Chris’. He nearly swooned at the sheer strength in Chris’ hand.  </p><p>“Yeah...um…” Uh oh, Dave thought, here it comes...the big ask. “would you like to have a coffee?  We could just go to Firehook, it's just around the corner.”  Chris looked nervous again.  </p><p>For a moment, Dave’s mind flashed back to his tiny apartment - the report sitting on his desk and what saying no would mean: boredom, cups of coffee from his Keurig machine, and inevitably jacking off before falling asleep. Which was perhaps the most depressing thought in the world. Or...he could say yes, and even if he had to say up half the night reading, he doubted that he’d regret it.  “Sure. I’d like that. You’ll have to lead the way - I don’t spend a lot of time around Dupont Circle.”  </p><p>“Cool!” Chris’ entire face lit up. “I’ll lead the way. Um...did you want to buy that first?” Chris nodded at the book Dave was still holding.</p><p>“No...I have something much better to occupy myself with tonight.” God...was that cheesy?  That was cheesy...Dave kicked mentally kicked himself.  </p><p>Chris’ smile seemed to grow even larger. “I’m glad. Come on...while we walk, I’ll explain why Stephanie Brown is far superior as Batgirl.”</p><p>Dave found himself wanting nothing more than to listen to Chris talk about comic books...or whatever else he felt like talking about. “Try it. I’m sure I can be convinced.”   </p><p>“Wait till I start lending you copies of her series...”  Chris stopped, suddenly realizing that he had just suggested they would be seeing a lot more of each other.”</p><p>Dave reached out and put his hand on the small of Chris’ back. “I look forward to reading them.”  He said softly.  </p><p>Chris just blushed.    </p><p>“So, how long did it take you to work up the nerve to talk to me?”</p><p>“From the moment you walked in the store.” Chris muttered, barely loud enough for Dave to hear. </p><p> </p><p>*********************</p><p><br/>
{2021}</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Chris’ lips were suddenly pressing against Dave’s. Dave hadn’t even realized the other man had moved off of his chest, much less was now kneeling between his legs on the couch, leaning forward, with an amused look on his face.  </p><p>Dave must have looked a million miles away. He smiled at Chris. “About the day we met.”</p><p>“Oh?  Were you reflecting on how insanely awkward and inarticulate I was?”</p><p>“You weren’t that bad...”</p><p>“I almost peed myself three times trying to work up the nerve to talk to you! And the only thing I could think of to talk about was Batgirl - which you lied about having read, by the way.”</p><p>“I thought it was cute. And I wanted to seem all cool and knowledgeable so you would keep talking to me.”  </p><p>“Now that’s cute...sexy even.”</p><p>“Thanks...still think I’m sexy?”</p><p>“You’re the sexiest man on this planet, Dave..” </p><p>“You are a very accomplished liar. I doubt that last night I was all that sexy.”</p><p>“Well...I guess there is something about that much vomit that takes the magic away. But the magic’s right back there today, so nothing to worry about. You’re still sexy.”</p><p>“You know all the right things to say...” Dave pressed his nose to Chris’.</p><p>“You’re such a sap...so why the memory lane trip?”  </p><p>“Just thinking about it...no actual reason. I guess sometimes I just can’t get over how my life turned out.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“Well, uh, you know... nine years ago, this was just a fantasy. NIne years ago, the only possible outcome I could see to my life was...”</p><p>“Dave...stop! Please! I hate it when you talk about that...it always just...it hurts to think about. I just hate it. But, you survived. Remember! You survived! You fought to get out of that damn place...and you ended up getting a scholarship to one of the best universities in the country. You didn’t die that day...you lived. And I am so happy you did. And now, look at you! You’re working in public health - on gay issues. Dave, you’re the success story. You’re proof that it does get better. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a role model to all those other closeted, self-hating teenagers out there. You got out. You’re not...you’re not buried six feet under. You’re right here. With me. In our home.” Chris had slipped off the couch and was kneeling on the ground next to day, his arms wrapped tightly around Dave. </p><p>Dave couldn’t help the tears. He nodded.  “Thank you.” Dave sighed. “Fuck...I hate it when I start thinking about all that...but I hated myself so much...I hated...” Dave pressed his forehead against Chris’, his body shuddering with repressed silent sobs. He could feel the panic rising slightly - fuck. </p><p>“Shhhh...You made it out, Dave. You went through hell as a teenager, so stop acting like you don’t deserve it.”</p><p>“I certainly don’t deserve you...” Dave could feel himself starting to shake harder, his voice was stammering - he started doing some of the breathing exercises his psychiatrist developed for his anxiety.</p><p>“Shut up! You do! Fuck, are you okay? Do you need one of your anti-anxiety pills? Or do you need me to get your pot?” Chris squeezed Dave a little tighter. </p><p>“No. I don’t think I need those right now. But just sit here with me for a second, I’ll be okay.” </p><p>“Okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Chris just held him, pulling Dave’s head down to rest on his shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes until Dave felt his breathing starting to calm down. </p><p>“Thank you.” He breathed softly. “It’s passing. And don’t I deserve you, especially when you have to clean up my tequila vomit on Valentine’s Day.”</p><p>“Yes you do, even then. I’m glad you’re here...and I’m glad I’m here with you. I love you.”</p><p>Dave wrapped his arms around Chris, hugging him tightly. Dave shut his eyes and breathed in Chris’ scent. He marveled at the sensation of this bulky, muscular package in his arms. It never ceased to amaze him. He felt Chris move back to the couch, pressing himself against Dave’s chest and fitting the top of his head into the nook directly beneath Dave’s chin.  </p><p>Nine years ago...this would have been a pipe dream for him. Nine years ago...this was a fantasy.  Now he got to live it each and every day.  </p><p>They lay like that for a long time, with Dune paused on the TV.  </p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dave.”</p><p>Dave smiled.  Nodding, he whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day to you Chris. I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>******************</p><p>Dave was trying very hard to pay attention to what was going on in the movie, but if he was going to be really honest...this damn film bored him to death. Keeping his eyes open, he ignored the disgusting burning feeling in his stomach and let his mind wander. </p><p>February 14th.  </p><p>Dave hated Valentine’s Day.  </p><p>Hated it.  </p><p>As far as he was concerned, it was one of the most useless holidays ever invented.  And, it was an invented holiday, regardless of what wikipedia might say. </p><p>Even after four years with Chris, Dave hated Valentine’s Day...despite Chris’ obvious attempts at winning Dave’s affections to the side of romance. </p><p>Their first Valentine’s had oozed romance. Starting with dinner at The Little Fountain Cafe, drinks at Veritas Wine Bar and finally, a walk along The Mall - where Chris gave Dave a leather and silver bracelet by the Washington Monument. A bracelet that he still wore almost every day. But as special as the day had been, Dave just...just couldn’t find it to embrace the idea of Valentine’s Day.  </p><p>Mainly because Valentine’s Day usually just meant rejection.  </p><p>Traditionally, Valentine’s Day found Dave kicked to the curb...or just completely depressed.  </p><p>When he was seventeen, sitting alone in his room, he entertained the idea of swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills.  When he was eighteen, well, his heart had been broken into a million little pieces. When he was nineteen, he was still unable to even entertain the idea of romance or a relationship. At Twenty, he’d been dumped. On Valentine’s Day. At Twenty-one, he’d been stood up, by a hook from Squirt. At Twenty-Two, well that one, he’d spent alone eating an extra large pizza, a pint of Chunky Monkey and watching Star Wars. And porn. At Twenty-three, he’d been drunk and high, spending his night at the Green Lantern and winding up in some random guy’s bed. And, of course, at Twenty-Four, Chris had entered the picture.  </p><p>But Chris had given him one good Valentine’s amongst how many bad ones? Dave just didn’t trust Valentine’s Day...Valentine’s Day was out to get him. </p><p>Even today, he was hungover as shit. Unable to do anything romantic with Chris, not even have a glass of wine. All he could do, today, was lie here and watch bad sci-fi </p><p>Disappointment. For Dave it was as synonymous with Valentine’s Day as roses or hearts. </p><p>As Dave lay on the couch with Chris, watching Sting run around a desert planet, he let his mind ponder over the last eight years - especially the last eight Valentine's Days. </p><p>He knew where this bad luck streak had started, he could practically pinpoint it. February 14th, 2012, the day he’d admitted his feelings to one Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel. It had been, well if he was going to be honest, it had only been a few weeks since he’d thought of that name. Regardless of what he was doing, Kurt Hummel still followed him around. Not in the way that one might think...it wasn’t a ‘the one that got away’ sort of thing, but more a ghost or whisper of the past, one of those shadows that sort of stayed with you.  </p><p>Kurt Hummel...Dave’s first big love.  </p><p>Kurt had saved him. Saved him multiple times over, in fact. Kurt had known that to an extent.  Dave had told him so on that ill-fated Valentine’s Day all those years ago. But Kurt had never known the full extent of what he had done for Dave.</p><p>Kurt had kept his promise. He had helped Dave through some of the worst days of his life. He’d been there on the day Dave came home from the hospital. He’d been there when Dave’s mother’s church group had practically assaulted Dave with reprogramming literature. He’d been there when Dave’s dad had told him about the divorce. He’d been there when Dave re-enrolled at McKinley. He went with Dave to his first gay youth group. He’d always been on the other end of the phone when the nightmares threatened to overtake Dave. He was there when Dave ran into a few kids from his old school. He had been there while Dave suffered through all the side effects of his antidepressants - the numbness, the weight gain, the anxiety...all of it.  </p><p>And somehow, perhaps because of those reasons, their friendship changed. Shifted. And one day, Kurt was there in an entirely different way. Asking Dave to be something that was much bigger than friends.  </p><p>And suddenly, Kurt had become Dave’s first. </p><p>First love.</p><p>First real kiss.</p><p>First time. </p><p>And, of course, he became Dave’s first major heartbreak.  </p><p>Throughout their long and sordid story, Kurt had managed to utterly destroy Dave’s heart at least a dozen times...sometimes he did so without even knowing it...like just the fact that Kurt even existed managed to break Dave’s heart.  </p><p>Dave’s inability to be brave enough to tell Kurt about his sexuality.</p><p>Kurt’s face each and every time Dave bullied him.</p><p>Kurt’s face after that fatal first kiss.</p><p>At prom when he asked Dave to dance.</p><p>At Scandals...looking lost and uncomfortable as his boyfriend danced with another boy.</p><p>When Kurt had said the words: “I’m with Blaine...I want to get to know you as friends...”</p><p>Dave had tried to get over Kurt, he’d tried so hard. But Kurt had seeped into his brain. Into his heart. And as hard as Dave worked to keep their relationship platonic, something just kept forcing them together. Whatever those forces had been...a mutual trust, teenage longing, or something else, something closer to love - their friendship fell away and Dave found himself with a boyfriend. </p><p>As Dave’s eyes ran over the figure of the man that he now shared his life with - nearly nine years after those fleeting summer months - he found that he couldn’t help but wonder about Kurt. </p><p>Where was Kurt living? Did he stay in New York? Did he become a king of Broadway...although, Dave figured that he hadn’t, since Dave did occasionally read Broadway blogs.</p><p>Did he have a partner?  </p><p>A family, maybe?</p><p>What would Kurt think of Dave’s life?  </p><p>All those years ago, in the hospital, Kurt had urged Dave to imagine a life for himself ten years in the future...with a husband.  A child. A home. A job...</p><p>That very fantasy had been the one thing that Dave had held on to throughout the dark days and the heartbreaks. The idea that somewhere out there was the perfect life for himself.</p><p>“I’m so happy right now.” </p><p>Dave hadn’t even realized he’d said that aloud until Chris turned his head slightly, and smiling, replied. “I am too babe. I couldn’t be happier.”</p><p>Chris turned back to the television and continued watching the movie in silence, unaware that his boyfriend’s brain was meandering the long untraveled roads of his past. Unaware that all Dave could really focus on the image of Kurt Hummel...</p><p>There was no real reason for Dave to be thinking about Kurt at this moment.  No reason for Kurt to even be relevant to Dave’s life.  </p><p>Except...except it was Valentine’s Day.  And as far as Dave was concerned, that meant it was Kurt’s day. Valentine’s Day had marked the start of Dave’s fight back from the brink of death. It was the day when Dave had spilled his heart to Kurt...which eventually led Kurt to open himself up to the possibility of a relationship.</p><p>“Do you still like me?”</p><p>Valentine’s Day might have marked the start of Dave’s downfall and eventual resurrection as a proud gay man. It might have been the moment when Dave had to start fighting to just carve something of a life out for himself, but it was also the moment when his life completely changed in every possible way. It was the moment that started Dave down a path towards Chris and the life they now shared.</p><p>And so much of that had come from Kurt - through friendship, love and eventual heartbreak, Kurt had given Dave hope.</p><p>Real hope.</p><p>He had given Dave the ability to see into his future...and what he witnessed there had driven him. This moment, lying on his brand new couch from Room &amp; Board, with his arms wrapped around the man he loved more than anything else in the entire world, watching some weird 80s sci-fi film, was the fulfillment of that hope. And sure Dave might still suffer from anxiety and might still need anti-depressants, but he had the life he’d hoped for, the life he’d dreamed of. </p><p>Dave pressed his face into Chris’ hair, breathing in deeply. His eyes turned to the television, but he wasn’t seeing sandworms or desert planets or bad 80’s hairstyles. He was far away - in a completely different room, in a totally different town. He was…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. It didn’t used to be this way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Discussion of suicide, mental health, clinical depression, allusions to eating addiction</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>{2012}</strong>
</p><p>He was standing in the kitchen of his childhood home staring down at the marble countertop. Well, if he was being truly accurate, he was actually staring down at a small bright red pill that was sitting on the counter. Namely, his daily dose of Tofranil - his antidepressant. The little pill that on a daily basis was supposed to keep him from getting back up on that chair. </p><p>The little pill that was supposed to help him feel balanced, and which he was supposed to be taking right this very second. He sighed and jabbed at it with a chubby finger. </p><p>This was the third of these little pills Dave had tried. The first had completely rendered him numb. He was pretty sure that one had been called Zoloft, which had caused some rather intense emotional blunting - which was what his psychiatrist, Dr. Richardson, had called it. For three weeks, all he’d been able to do was lie on the couch and stare into empty space - unable to feel or even think clearly, he had felt like he was trapped underwater and couldn’t break the surface. After weeks of that, and Kurt realizing that something was very wrong with Dave, Dave’s dad had demanded that Dr. Richardson change the medication. Unfortunately, the next drug, which he couldn’t even remember the name of, was just as bad. It caused such intense stomach pains and nausea that Dave ended up begging to be taken off it after only a few days.</p><p>This one - well, this one was both helping with the depression and adding to it. This one was just making him fat.  </p><p>There was no denying that, he thought, as he glanced down at his now sizable middle. </p><p>Yeah, Dave was certainly fatter than he had ever been. And sure, his tendency for overeating was probably not helping matters much, but this pill was adding to the problem. And based on that motherfucker of a bathroom scale, he’d gained at least twenty pounds in the three weeks he’d been taking the tofranil. His face had changed shape - it had become round and puffy.  Even his hands and wrists looked fatter - his fingers kind of looked like cocktail sausages. His stomach was no longer toned or muscular, which he’d felt proud of, now it now just looked flabby and hung over his belt in a rather embarrassing way. He was also pretty sure he’d started waddling when he walked, which was even more humiliating. And, since his psychiatrist refused to put him on pills that could impede his sex drive - she was worried about his natural development as a teenage boy, or something like that - he was stuck being more chub than cub.  </p><p>Dave actually smiled as that joke ran through his head. He made a mental note to tell it to Kurt later on.  </p><p>But for now...the pill.</p><p>He ran his thumb softly over its rough exterior.  </p><p>He hated being fat. Hated it. Before - everything - he’d been working out a lot. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always been kind of chubby - but he’d started losing some weight and his stomach had started to show off a bit more muscle. And his arms, which had been so muscular last year, actually jiggled now. It was like in the last two months, all that weight he’d lost had just come back, and then some. And he hated every ounce of it.  </p><p>Dave closed his eyes. He wanted to be attractive - some days it was all he ever thought about. He wanted people to turn their heads when he walked by. He wanted to look as good at the guys he lusted after in movies or on TV. He didn’t want to have to wear oversized sweatshirts everyday. He wanted to go shopping with Kurt and find nice, fitted clothes that looked good on him - clothes that he’d feel proud to wear. Not the extra large polos and t-shirts from Old Navy or the constant rotation of extra or extra extra large hoodies that he wore every fucking day.</p><p>He wanted to feel sexy. He wanted to feel good about himself. </p><p>He picked up the pill and stared at it in his hand. It looked so small sitting there in his palm. And then, as he stared at it, he had that one awful and dangerous thought that he tried so hard not to think - ever. </p><p>Maybe, what it, if he just missed one dose...</p><p>Dave’s hand started trembling and his eyes squeezed shut. Fat wet tears started seeping from between his eyelids, dropping down onto the marble counter. When he opened his eyes, the pill and his hand wavered in the mass of tears leaking out of his eyes. </p><p>No. He had to take it. If he didn’t he would be letting so many people down. His dad. Kurt. His psychiatrist.  </p><p>Himself.</p><p>Dave didn’t want to be a disappointment anymore. He wanted to be someone they could all be proud of. Someone people could maybe look up to.  </p><p>And, most importantly, he wanted to stay alive. </p><p>The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him pulled Dave’s attention away from the tiny red pill. He turned around, wiping at his eyes furiously, to find his dad standing in the doorway of their kitchen. Looking concerned.  </p><p>Of course, that was pretty much Paul Karofsky’s predominant facial expression these days...concerned. And sad.  </p><p>Paul Karofsky was not a small man and so seemed to envelop the doorway. He was large, thick and imposing. He had been a linebacker back in high school and had never seemed to lose that build. However, despite his general appearance, Paul was pretty much the most gentle man alive, always cautious in his movements and actions. He was forty-two years old, but many people had a hard time believing he was anywhere even near thirty-five. His face has always been bright and youthful, he was a man who could almost always be found smiling, which just added to his youthful nature. Over the last few  years, his hair and beard had been gradually going grey and he was definitely putting on some middle age weight, but he managed to carry it in a natural way - as though it belonged there.</p><p>Lately though, and Dave knew this was his fault, Paul had been walking around with a slight slump to his back. And his youthful face had started to look drained and weathered. He’d been carrying around a weight that he just couldn’t seem to shake. The weight of a father who believed he had failed his son.  </p><p>“Hey kid, you ok?”  Paul’s voice was soft, but Dave could detect the fear in it, a fear that had been constant for the last two months. His normally bright blue eyes looked deeply sad and worried.</p><p>Dave nodded. Then looked back down at his hand.  He closed his fist around the pill. And shook his head, shoulders heaving with unshed sobs. </p><p>His dad moved swiftly across the kitchen and put his hand on Dave’s shoulder. “Is that your pill?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dave muttered softly, his voice sounded moist.</p><p>“I know you don’t like taking these things, Dave, but you have to. They’re helping you.”</p><p>“I hate them, Dad.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“They’re making me fat. I don’t want this anymore. I want to stop feeling like this.”</p><p>“Dave...talk to me. What’s going on.”</p><p>“I don’t want to take them. I don’t want to get fat and disgusting. But I’m scared that if I don’t take it, I’ll do something stupid again and then I’ll just be an even bigger disappointment to you than I already am.”</p><p>Dave screwed his eyes closed. He could feel the burning sensation of one of his hysteric cries starting to build.  </p><p>“Oh...Dave...”</p><p>“I’m trying so hard. I’m trying so hard to be normal, to be better. But I hate what I did to us...to you...mom....”</p><p>“No. Stop it Dave. Please. You are normal - you are doing so great! I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. Dave, you are normal. You are! You are the most important person in the world to me. What happened, it wasn’t your fault. You were scared. You didn’t know what to do. I’m not mad at you, not for anything. And your mother left us a long time ago, when she couldn’t find it in her heart to love her family unconditionally. She decided to love her God more than her husband and her son. That was not your fault.”</p><p>Dave shook his head. His brain was doing that thing again where he was tumbling down one of his black holes “But if I wasn’t...”</p><p>“If you weren’t what? Gay? David, I’ve told you this once and I’m going to tell you again and again and again...I don’t fucking care that you’re gay! I don’t. I love you. I love you so god damn fucking much...I don’t care if you bring a boy home. Hell, I’m going to be overjoyed when you do! I just want my son...here, with me. Alive.”</p><p>Dave let himself sink into a hysterical cry. His head fell onto his dad’s shoulder and his whole body shook with sobs. He was nearly wailing into his father’s neck. God, he hated this - he hated it so much. And it just kept happening. Why couldn’t the damn pills make this go away. It was as though his brain had stock piled all the repressed emotions from the last few years and was tossing them at him like overfilled water balloons. </p><p>Paul’s voice was thick with emotion as he wrapped his arms around his son, holding him as tightly as he could. “You understand me? I want my son, alive. I want my son to hang out with me on Saturday afternoons and watch football games. Or I want to still take my son to the movies on his birthday, cause that’s what we’ve done since he was five. Dave - you’re my son. I don’t care if you’re a three hundred pound gay man...and I don’t care about anything else. You’re alive and you’re here and I get to hug you. You’re who you are, and I’m still going to love you.”</p><p>Dave just hugged his dad as they stood there holding each other. Paul’s face pressed against Dave’s soft hair, his tears creating small rivers through the messy curls, and he could feel Dave’s tears soaking through his shirt - he’d need to change, but he could care less. He’d change his shirt a million times if it meant helping his son. He was rubbing small circles into Dave’s back.</p><p>This had become a regular thing for them - he knew Dave was still incredibly emotionally volatile and would be for a while. Dave’s emotions were raw and exposed, often pushing him to experience extremes on a daily - sometimes hourly basis. Paul made a mental note to talk to Dave’s doctor about his - maybe check his dose. He knew Dave was feeling more and more self conscious about the amount of weight he was gaining - this had been the subject of more than a few cries over the last little while. But he didn’t care - he couldn’t care. Those pills were keeping his son safe. Paul decided to talk to Doctor Richardson - maybe they could explore other options or help Dave start getting back into a gym. As long as it was someplace safe. </p><p>Slowly, Dave started to come back to himself. He could feel the hysteria starting to abate. His breathing started to return to normal again and he could feel the tears lessen. He was still shaking, but it was not as bad as moments ago. He sucked in a deep breath, exhaling shakily. But he stayed like this, pressed against his dad, his face buried into Paul’s neck and shoulder. After a long moment, he mumbled, “If I become like one those people we see on The Biggest Loser...I think you might change your mind. Especially, I started wearing bedazzled spandex.”</p><p>“I’d still cheer you on.”</p><p>Dave stepped back.  He had a small sad smile on his face, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  Sometimes it felt like he was always on the brink of an emotional breakdown.  “Thank you.”</p><p>“Anytime kid. Now, please swallow the damn pill!”</p><p>Dave tossed the tiny pill into his mouth and swallowed, grimacing.  “Yessir.”</p><p>“Good...have you eaten.”</p><p>Dave just shook his head. He’d been too busy rising The Dave Karofsky’s WIld Depression Ride.</p><p>Paul frowned. “You’re supposed to have food with that. Sit. I’ll throw some pancakes in the toaster and we can have a real fancy breakfast.”</p><p>Dave sat at the small oak kitchen table. He grabbed a couple napkins out of the small mental holder and noisily blew his nose. He watched his dad move easily around the kitchen - it was as though they had lived on their own all their lives. He knew that his dad had always done a lot of the cooking, cleaning and daily house stuff, since his mom had always been so preoccupied with her church groups, but even so, his dad seemed so at ease in the kitchen. So at ease being a single parent. Paul placed a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice in front of Dave with a secretive wink.</p><p>“I know you’re not really supposed to be drinking caffeine, but you can cheat just today...ok?”</p><p>“Thanks.” Dave sipped from the cup. He’d been drinking coffee since he was twelve - it had always been one of those little secrets that he and his dad shared. But his caffeine intake had to be restricted because of his medication.</p><p>“So,” Paul put down two plates of toaster pancakes, “What are your big plans for the day?”</p><p>“School...that’s pretty much it.” Dave shrugged.</p><p>Dave’s social life had pretty much flat lined ever since...it happened. He certainly did not bother seeing anyone from Thurston, and since Az, his once former best friend, had decided to drop him like yesterday’s garbage, he just didn’t really have anything resembling a social circle anymore.  </p><p>Sure, he saw Kurt every day. Talked to Kurt everyday. Texted Kurt everyday. Emailed Kurt everyday, but having one friend didn’t really equate to having a group of people to hang out with. He honestly didn’t know what he would do without Kurt.</p><p>And he certainly hadn’t been back to Scandals. His dad had completely freaked out when he found out that Dave had been going there, so Dave had promised not to go back. At least not alone. And to be honest, he actually had no interest in going back. Everyone knew about him and about the suicide attempt, he just wouldn’t be able to handle the looks of pity. Or, what would be worse, the the offers of sex or whatever it was that came out of pity and not actual interest. He hadn’t taken anyone up on those offers before he’d tried to kill himself, so he certainly wasn’t about to do it now. So, Scandals was out.  </p><p>In all honesty, he felt like he was a different person now. His whole life was different. He wasn’t just some closeted kid who was trying to find acceptance and a little compassion from strangers in a bar. He felt different. Worldly. He felt as though he had been someplace no one ever should have to go, and he had survived the trip.</p><p>But that didn’t mean he didn’t want friends. Hell, he’d give anything to have people to talk to again.  </p><p>Dave was unquestionably lonely.</p><p>Kurt kept trying to convince him to come and hang out with the glee club, but Dave hated the way they looked at him. They looked at him just like everyone else did - like they were just waiting for him to shatter into a million little pieces.  </p><p>And he just couldn’t handle it anymore.  </p><p>He didn’t want all those whispers of “Are you doing ok?” or “What can we do?” or “How are you feeling?” - that one was the worst. Like what was he supposed to say. Oh, I’m fine - you know how it is, tried to hang myself, but thinking of a nice Florida vacation next year. It was even worse when they added “buddy” to the end of the question. And the large tearful eyes that felt like they were trying to pry open his head to examine his tormented brain. </p><p>Why did everyone he came in contact with have to act like he had actually died and they were talking to his ghost.  </p><p>Dave sighed...poking at his pancakes.  </p><p>“Dave?  What’s going on?” Paul frowned as he poured maple syrup on his pancakes. He could already tell that he was going to have to try and yank the answer from his son.</p><p>Dave shrugged. He knew this was the wrong response. Dr. Richardson would probably want to analyze that shrug. Kurt would yell at him for not being communicative, and then apologize, immediately worrying that Dave might go home and hurt himself, or something. Not that he would - the worst he’d do is go buy a two liter tub of Rocky Rock and eat it while watching Star Wars.</p><p>But his dad did that thing that his dad always did. </p><p>He put his fork down. Picked up his coffee cup and stared at Dave. Waiting. </p><p>This had become their usual thing. Paul asks a question. Dave doesn’t answer. Paul waits...</p><p>Dave continued to poke at the pancake, fully aware of his father’s stare boring down on him.  He could feel himself start to panic, he closed his eyes. “Dad, please stop staring at me.”</p><p>“Just tell me what’s going on.”</p><p>“I guess, I’m lonely.” God, he hated talking about this stuff. “The total number of friends in my life went down to one - just one. And I can’t keep taking up all his time.” </p><p>Dave looked up at his dad, who just nodded - encouraging Dave to continue. </p><p>Dave frowned at his pancakes. “People look at me like they keep expecting me to go drown myself in the Sandusky River or something. They look at me like they expect me to go completely crazy.” Dave sighed again and shoved a piece of pancake in his mouth, chewing angrily. </p><p>“I know, Dave.” Paul’s voice was soft and understanding. “Believe me I know. I feel it every time I walk into the grocery store. People look at me like they’re waiting for me to break down or start screaming. And they look at me with pity - like I actually lost you. And at work, the other partners all treat me with kid gloves - they don’t know what to say to me. They keep telling me to take afternoons off - like I can’t handle being a lawyer anymore.”</p><p>“Dad, I’m so...”</p><p>“If you say you’re sorry, I’m coming over there and smacking you upside the head.”</p><p>“Oh...I...”</p><p>“Dave, this was not your fault. None of this was your fault, ok?” </p><p>“I can’t help feeling like it is.”</p><p>“I know...and I’m sure that Dr. Richardson is going to work on that with you. But Dave, I promise you - what happened is not your fault. It’s the fault of those small minded bigots that you went to school with. It’s the fault of your teachers for not actually doing anything to help you. And it’s my fault for not being… for not being there. I knew something was up last year when you were kicked out of school, the acting out, the mood swings, the way you begged me to let you transfer...I knew something was up. I think I even knew what it was, I was just too much of a coward to ask. I guess I was so preoccupied with everything that was going on with your mom...”</p><p>“I am sorry for that...”</p><p>“Not your fault! Your mom and I...well, it was inevitable. She didn’t leave because of you, she left long before any of this. We’re different people and we tried for so long that it was a relief when she left. But then she did the one thing I won’t allow - I won’t let her politics and her religion hurt you. I just won’t. So, Dave, none of this is your fault. None of it.”</p><p>Paul reached across the table and grabbed Dave’s hand. Dave responded by squeezing back, while blinking hard to try and clear the tears in his eyes. A double cry morning - it's been a couple weeks since he’d had one of those.</p><p>Fuck. He really hated being so damn emotional. “Thanks dad.” His voice sounded thick.</p><p>“You’re my son, Dave. Any other part of my life - even being a lawyer - comes second to you from now on. I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you again, not on my watch.”</p><p>Dave just nodded.  He really didn’t have any other response. </p><p>“Now...about this friend problem. You could try hanging out with people from that club of Kurt’s?”</p><p>“Glee club? Yeah. I could...I just don’t know how welcoming they’re going to be. After last year. Plus it’s a lot of people all at once.” Dave still had trouble dealing with more than a few people at a time - his anxiety went through the roof. </p><p>“Well, could you ask to just spend time with a couple at a time?”</p><p>“I suppose. You know I’m not good at this kind of stuff dad - making friends and stuff.” </p><p>“You did fine while you were playing football.”</p><p>“That’s different - you’re forced to spend time together, forced to be interested in the same thing. And since I dropped it, I don’t can’t fall back on that anymore.”</p><p>“Do you want to start up again?”</p><p>Dave immediately felt ice cold sweat cover his whole body, he shook his head. “No. I can’t do that dad...not after..”</p><p>“Okay. So, we need a game plan. Name one thing you love.” </p><p>Dave tilted his head and gave his dad a pointed look. </p><p>“Right.” His dad smiled. “How stupid of me - Star Wars. I bet you can find someone who loves it as much as you do - okay maybe not quite as much, but it can’t hurt to try.” </p><p>“I guess. I dunno.” </p><p>Paul sighed. “Dave...what is it?”</p><p>“You’ll get mad.”</p><p>“I won’t - Dave I promise you I won’t.”</p><p>Dave let his eyes fall to stare at the table. “Sometimes I miss Az.” </p><p>“Oh Dave.”</p><p>Dave screwed his eyes shut again, shaking his head. “I know I shouldn’t. I know I should just forget him - he rejected me. He didn’t help me when I reached out and begged him. He told me I was disgusting and never to talk to him again. But we’ve been friends since pre-school, dad. Sometimes...I just miss him. Sometimes, I think I wouldn’t feel so lonely if he was around.” </p><p>Paul puts down his coffee cup, trying to suppress his frustration. “Dave, I know you’re hurting and I know he hurt you. So many people did. And I know you miss him, and if I could change this - if I could drag him here and scream at him until he smartened up - I would. But I can’t - I’m so sorry Dave. I wish I could make some of this easier for you. But Az...he’s not going to change just because you want him to. Just because you wish it. And if he ever does come to his senses, then the three of us are going to have a long talk, but I’m not holding my breath. And you might have a great group of friends who actually want to hang out with you - you just have to ask.”</p><p>“I’m scared.” </p><p>“Dave, I know this is scary. But couldn’t you just try? You never know what might happen.”</p><p>“Yeah...I could. I guess...”</p><p>“I know you’re still anxious about being around other kids. But you need to try - even just a little. Just ask One of them - even if it’s asking Kurt to help you talk to them, that’ll be one more friend than you had when you woke up.”</p><p>“Dr. Richardson says that with a lot of work, that it’ll pass - being anxious about other people. And I guess I could try. ”</p><p>“I promise it won’t be awful.”</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>“I promise.” Paul got up from his chair and came around the table. He knelt in front of Dave, pulling him into a hug. Dave buried his face in his dad’s neck and sighed. Paul tightened his arms around Dave. “Yeah, kid, I promise it’ll be ok...we’ll be ok.”</p><p>“I’ll try. Okay, I’ll do it today - it’s just asking Kurt for help.” </p><p>“Yeah, it’s just asking Kurt for help. And I think he’ll be just fine doing it.” </p><p>Dave nodded as a swell of anxiety surged in his gut and he briefly wondered whether he could swing by McDonalds for a second breakfast on the way to school. </p><p>******************</p><p>Dave sat on his bed, pushing his textbooks into his backpack. He knew he needed to leave soon to get to school before first period, but he didn’t really have to rush. It was one of the benefits of having the label CLINICALLY DEPRESSED practically stamped on his forehead. Teachers were usually willing to be a bit more lax than normal. While he hated everything about how people treated him now, he did sort of enjoy how easy he could take advantage of that pity. And if it meant he didn’t need to rush to his first class most mornings, he was really fine with that. </p><p>He picked up the Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic graphic novel he was currently reading and added it to the pile of textbooks in the bag. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but since he usually spent his lunch hours alone on the bleachers, it might be nice to have something other than Algebra II to read. He was just zipping up the bag when his phone vibrated. It was a brand new phone - bought by his dad in an attempt to try and dispel any negative emotions that clung to his old one. He picked it up - smiling at seeing Kurt’s name. </p><p>
  <em>Haven’t seen you yet - are you okay? </em>
</p><p>He quickly typed a reply - this had become a regular thing, having his friend check up on him. <em>Hey - yeah, I’m just having a morning. I’m heading to school now. </em></p><p>Just seeing Kurt’s message made him feel better - it helped him feel centered. And he knew his friend was willing to help him - would be willing to help him. He would just probably need the whole day to work up the nerve to actually ask. Well, that and at least one visit to either KFC or McDs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title taken from Death Cab for Cutie, "Gold Rush" </p><p>Discussion of mental health and depression  comes from my own personal experience and extensive research.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Another lonely roller looking for a friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Discussion of suicide attempt, homophobia, self-hate</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hallways of McKinley high were completely deserted as Dave closed his locker and pulled his backpack on. School had ended almost forty minutes ago, but he had holed himself up in the library working on his college application essays. Dr. Richardson had convinced him to talk about his coming out experience - suicide attempt included - as part of the essays. She said it would be both therapeutic and could help him get into a good school, especially considering how many universities had big LGBTQ contingents. Plus, according to his dad, this kind of thing looked great in the eyes of scholarship committees. So, Dave had spent the last forty minutes reliving the last few months - his being outed, the bullying and gay bashing, his suicide attempt, the hospital stay and the slow road he was taking back to himself. </p>
<p>He wasn’t so sure about how therapeutic this all was, but he certainly felt emotionally drained and cried out. But maybe the emotions going into that essay would be enough to get him into a good school. He’d just emailed the essay to his dad and Dr. Richardson - he was sure his dad was going to lose it when he read it. So maybe he should give his dad a head’s up.   </p>
<p>Of course, this also meant that he had to figure out where he was going to apply, which was hard to do when you had zero idea what you actually wanted to do with your life, but his dad had promised to talk it over with him. He knew that his dad kind of - in a not so secret way - wanted him to think about law school eventually. But that felt wrong somehow. He did have this little list in his head about possible things he might want to do, but he wasn’t sure about them all. And, as for a school, well his dad was certainly pushing for a university far from Lima, but the idea of moving so far from his dad was anxiety producing at best.  </p>
<p>Dave paused before heading towards the main doors of the school, his eyes moving carefully over the empty hallways - he was always cautious about being alone in the school these days. His memories of running away from people at Thruston were still too vivid and real for him some days. He remembered running out of that locker room - with calls of ‘fag’ and ‘queerboy’ and ‘cock sucker’ ringining in his ears. And how each one had felt like a metal spike in his chest. </p>
<p>So, like many things in his life these days, school hallways tended to be a major trigger for him. </p>
<p>Plus, this hallway also held other dangers that he wasn’t quite ready to face - especially Az. Who he saw only occasionally wandering the hallways, always alone or talking to some Cheerio. The few times they had almost crossed each other’s paths - Dave had avoided all eye contact, but he’d felt Az’s glowering stare following him. Thankfully, Kurt had been at his side each time and had pulled him away from the hulking figure of his former friend. Dave would then need to disappear into a bathroom to cry for a while, usually while Kurt rubbed reassuring circles across his back. </p>
<p>But there was no Kurt today, so Dave really didn’t want an Az encounter. Of course it was Dave’s own fault that Kurt wasn’t at his side right now - he’d been avoiding the other boy all day long. He didn’t like avoiding his friend - his best friend, if he was being honest - but he was insanely nervous about asking Kurt about hanging out with the glee club. </p>
<p>He couldn’t believe that he found the idea of just asking whether he could hang out with a group of people this fucking scary, but Dave was absolutely terrified. Every time he thought about it, all he envisioned were pairs of judgemental eyes watching him - hating him. And he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d been awful to them, and although Kurt had been able to see beyond Dave the Tormentor, how could he expect the rest of them to. They hadn’t been there for the past two months like Kurt had been. </p>
<p>They hadn’t seen just how broken he had been - how broken he still is. But Kurt had - Kurt had seen it all. From the moment he’d walked into Dave’s hospital room to now, he had barely left Dave’s side. Dave flexed his fingers - desperately wishing that Kurt’s hand was gripping his own right now - he suddenly missed his friend a whole lot. Dave knew he depended on Kurt a great deal - he’d let Kurt set the boundaries, and to his surprise Kurt had allowed their friendship to become intensely close, right from the very beginning. </p>
<p>As he slowly started to make his way towards the doors, his brian did a time jump and he remembered how protective Kurt had seemed the day he’d come home from the hospital. Showing up, with Burt Hummel in tow, just as Dave was about to be discharged. Kurt had been ready to take on any task Dave or his dad needed. Full of bright smiles and positive energy - gripping his hand so tightly as Dave slowly stepped out of the hospital for the first time in days. </p>
<p>***************************</p>
<p>{Two Months Earlier} </p>
<p>“I think your dad is just signing the discharge papers and then we should be good to go.” Kurt slipped through the doorway to Dave’s hospital room. He was dressed extremely casually today - more so than Dave had ever seen him - wearing a simple pair of dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt underneath a maroon cardigan. He was even wearing converse shoes and not some stylish boot or something. He gave Dave a huge smile. “Are you happy to be getting out of here.” </p>
<p>Dave was sitting on his hospital bed, legs dangling over the side, shoulders slumped and head hanging down slightly. Dave shrugged. “I guess.”  Dave was gripping his favorite Star Wars hoodie, his hands slowly twisting the soft fabric. Dave stretched out his legs - he was wearing an ancient pair of sweatpants, he saw an old paint stain on his left thigh and briefly wondered if he should feel embarrassed, but his brain didn’t want to summon up that emotion. “I dunno. I’m nervous and scared.” His throat still felt like he had swallowed glass - it felt bruised and raw. </p>
<p>Kurt moved to stand next to the bed, he reached out and gripped Dave’s shoulder. “Why are you scared?”</p>
<p>“I’m scared it’s all going to start again.” </p>
<p>“The bullying?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Well, if it does, and I don’t think it will - your dad pretty much stopped short of running a bulldozer through your old school, so I think they’re going to control those assholes now. But if it does, you have me, my dad and your dad at your side now. And you and I are going to talk everyday and see each other everyday, so we’ll face it together.” </p>
<p>“Thank you Kurt.” </p>
<p>“You’re welcome. Now, put on that incredibly tacky hoodie, before you rip it and get your shoes on so we can get you home.” </p>
<p>Dave nodded and pulled the hoodie over his head. He noticed that his hands were shaking, which was nothing unusual - they’d been shaking for the past five days. He balled them into fists in the hope they’d stop - just stop shaking for one second. He shut his eyes and tried to force them to stop - he willed them to stop. Unbidden - as his emotions always were - he suddenly felt overwhelmed. God. What had he done? What had he done to his dad? To himself? He should feel bad - he did feel bad. He felt scared and awful and nervous...but he also didn’t. Everything he was feeling seemed veiled in this strange fog. His entire body started to tremble - he didn’t understand why he wasn’t feeling more - and his breathing started to grow heavy and rapid. </p>
<p>Suddenly, he felt cool fingers prying his left hand open, and then his hand was gently being held. He opened his eyes to stare at his hand, entwined with Kurt’s. </p>
<p>“It’s okay, Dave. I’m right here. I got you.”</p>
<p>Dave just nodded and tired to take some deep breaths - just like he’d been practicing. He’d managed to get himself under control just as the door opened and his dad walked in, a tired smile on his face. Dave immediately felt his heart give a small pang as he took in his dad’s appearance. </p>
<p>Paul Karofsky looked worn out - he was wearing this faded old t-shirt with a giant Allen County Fair logo and a zip up sweater, plus his usual Levis jeans. But his face almost sagged with exhaustion and worry. He had deep bags under his eyes - probably from not sleeping over the past five days. His beard looked unkempt and in desperate need of a trim. Paul Karofsky looked like he was going to fall down at any second. </p>
<p>“Hey kid, we’re all set to go. I’ve got your medication and appointments booked for this week, so if you’re ready - let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Even his voice sounded worn out.</p>
<p>Dave nodded and squeezed Kurt’s hand a little tighter. He slipped off the bed and took a small step forward, slipping into his shoes - they still hadn’t put the laces back in. He felt his dad come up next to him, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulder, and together they moved out into the hallway - where Burt Hummel was waiting, smiling sadly. </p>
<p>-/- </p>
<p>The car ride home had been mostly silent, except by Kurt and Burt, who kept up a small stream of chatter most of the way. Dave had been surprised that the Hummels were driving them home, then he saw the way his dad was leaning against the window next to him in the backseat, eyes closed, and Dave realized that his dad would never have made it home on his own. </p>
<p>Dave had never been in Kurt’s car before, so he took a minute to take in the rather pristine interior - he noted that the car visor CD holder, probably filled with Broadway musicals or something, was the only real personal touch in the car. Dave’s car had always been filled with junk - sports equipment, fast food wrappers, comic books - which was how he assumed all teenagers kept their cars. </p>
<p>The moment they arrived in the driveway, Dave’s dad seemed to come alive again. He practically sprang out of the car, eyes and head moving rapidly as he searched the yard and street for something. Burt got out with him, and Dave watched as the two older men had a hushed conversation. Paul  turned back to the car. “Stay here for a minute okay, I just want to...check the house.” He gave Dave a reassuring smile and then hurried inside. Burt seemed to be standing sentry next to the car, a tense look on his face as he watched the street. </p>
<p>Dave watched him go, a cloudy sense of concern lingering on the edge of his mind. He turned to Kurt. “Kurt?”</p>
<p>The other boy shifted in his sead so he could look in the back seat. “Yeah?” He looked sad.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” </p>
<p>Kurt sighed deeply and shook his head. “Nothing, Dave. It’s okay. Just give your dad a second and we can get you inside.”</p>
<p>“Kurt...please don’t lie to me, okay?”</p>
<p>Kurt’s eyes flicked back to the front door of the house, and then back to Dave. He sighed again. “I think he’s checking to make sure your mom isn’t here. I heard him tell my dad that she’s been threatening to show up with some priest.” </p>
<p>“Oh.” Dave’s head fell forward again. He shut his eyes. He felt a spike of pain in his throat as he swallowed thickly. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry Dave.” </p>
<p>“It’s okay. I’ll have to face her eventually.” </p>
<p>“I don’t think your dad is going to let that happen.” Kurt’s voice sounded thoughtful.</p>
<p>Dave’s dad walked back to the car, opening the backseat door, and leaned in. “Okay kid, let’s get you inside.” He held his hand out to Dave. Dave gripped it and let himself be led inside, Kurt and Burt following closely behind. </p>
<p>The entrance way felt the same - it smelled the same too - like the furniture polish that the cleaner, who Paul hired to come in once a week, would use. And the slight overhang of coffee, which his dad always seemed to be brewing. And the house looked the same too - the living room with its giant couch and huge flat screen tv. The dining room, which usually just served as Paul’s home office. The kitchen - all light oak and bright yellows. </p>
<p>Dave’s eyes were drawn immediately to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, and eventually his own attic room. He hadn’t been up there since...well, since he’d tried to kill himself. He swallowed and bit his lip. He hoped someone would come upstairs with him, he wasn’t ready to face that room alone. </p>
<p>“Dave, do you want something to eat?” Paul was already striding off into the kitchen, casting an expective glance over his shoulder. “Kurt’s step-mom sent over a lot of food.” </p>
<p>Burt came up behind Dave, squeezing his shoulder, “Carole makes one fabulous mac and cheese.” </p>
<p>Dave shrugged. “I guess.” His stomach twisted slightly. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to go. He just stood there in their hallway, eyes moving without finding purchase on anything. “I don’t know what…” Then, again as if it were an anchor in a raging sea, Kurt’s hand is there - softly taking hold of his own hand. </p>
<p>“It’s okay, Dave.” Kurt gently squeezed his hand, then turned towards the kitchen. “Mr. Karofsky?”</p>
<p>“Yes?” </p>
<p>“Is it okay if Dave and I just go sit in the living room?” </p>
<p>“Of course!” Paul appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, a look of worry sitting heavy on his features. “Are you okay, Dave.” </p>
<p>Dave just nodded, his eyes on the floor in front of him. It was Kurt who answered, “He’s okay. I just thought it might be nice if he just relaxed for a bit.” </p>
<p>Paul narrowed his eyes slightly, but seemed to decide not to comment. He just nodded. “Okay, I’m going to reheat some mac and cheese for you, I’ll bring it to you - and don’t worry, I won’t forget your ketchup.” </p>
<p>Kurt laughed softly, looking over at Burt - the two nodded at each other. Burt followed Paul into the kitchen, while Kurt pulled Dave into the living room, tugging him to sit down on the couch next to him. “Are you okay, Dave?”</p>
<p>Dave turned to look at Kurt, whose bright blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. All Dave could do was shake his head. “I don’t know.” </p>
<p>“Tell me how I can help.” </p>
<p>Dave sat there, hands clasped in front of him, staring down at the coffee table - which still had a small pile of comic books that he’d bought before everything had happened. He’d never managed to read them. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know how to communicate what he felt. He didn’t even know what he felt. It all seemed foggy and jumbled in his head. But there was one thing - one tiny thing that was pushing through that gathering fog - he just wanted to be close to someone. The need for someone to hug him and hold him and just reassure him was so strong. He closed his eyes. “Can I ask you something - and you can say no, if it makes you uncomfortable.” </p>
<p>“Tell me.” </p>
<p>“Can you hold me?”</p>
<p>“Oh Dave.” </p>
<p>Dave gave a small sob. “I just...I just feel so...and I just need...and I’m sorry, I’m asking too much.” Dave’s head sank even lower, his body trembling. And then he felt a pair of thin and extremely muscular arms wrap themselves around him, tugging him close. He let himself fall against Kurt. He let himself lean against the smaller boy. </p>
<p>“I got you Dave. I’ve got you.” </p>
<p>Twenty minutes later, when Paul Karofsky walked into the living room, carrying two large plates of Carol Hudson’s mac and cheese and a bottle of ketchup, he found his son lying on the couch, head resting in Kurt Hummel’s lap. </p>
<p>****************************</p>
<p>The sounds of squishing metal shocked Dave back to the present - he stopped and looked down, he’d managed to step right onto an empty Coke can, crushing it. Dave grunted and was about to kick it away, when he thought about the janitor having to wander around picking up the detritus of teenagers, so he bent over, picked it up and tossed it into the garbage can next to the doorway. Smiling slightly, Dave turned to walk out into the parking lot. His plan was to get home and put the frozen lasagna in the oven so it would be ready by the time his dad got home.  </p>
<p>He managed to get about a foot from the main doors before he heard a voice calling his name.  </p>
<p>“David!” </p>
<p>Dave turned to see the slender, fashionably dressed figure of Kurt Hummel running towards him. Dave felt a small smile settle onto his face. “Oh, hey.”</p>
<p>“Hey yourself.” Kurt grinned at him. “I haven’t seen you all day!”</p>
<p>Dave nodded. “Yeah...sorry. I just needed some time to myself today.”</p>
<p>“You ok?”  Kurt’s grin melted into a look of concern.  </p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess.  I dunno, my dad and I had this big talk this morning.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>“Maybe...I dunno. Yeah. Sorry, I’m not being super articulate.”</p>
<p>“Dave, you know that you can talk to me about anything, right? I’ll do whatever I can to help.”  </p>
<p>“I know. I do. I’m still having trouble talking about my feelings, even with you Kurt.”</p>
<p>“I know, but I’ll be here to listen no matter what.”</p>
<p>Dave nodded again, sometimes he felt like a bobble head for all the nodding he did. He fell silent, his foot rubbing against a spot on the linoleum floor and let himself wonder what would happen if he asked. How would the other members of glee react. Would they be judgemental? Would they be welcoming? He flashed to that image of judgemental eyes and felt a small trickle of sweat run down his neck. But maybe, just maybe his dad is right, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just try. What’s the worst that could happen. </p>
<p>He steals a glance at Kurt, who is watching him with a patient smile on his face. Kurt who has not once judged him or refused him help in the past two months - who Dave has talked to every single day since he got out of the hospital. Kurt now knows more about Dave than probably anyone else on this planet - Dave knows he would never be refused by Kurt. </p>
<p>And he is so unbearably lonely. There are days when Dave literally craves having someone to talk to. Someone he can text just to say hello. Someone who would pick up the phone and want to talk about nerdy things or about football scores or about anything. And he knows Kurt does all that for him - even suffering through Dave’s long explanations about whatever Star Wars book he’s reading. But Dave hates that he’s always taking Kurt away from his other friends - from his boyfriend. </p>
<p>Momentarily, he flashes to how he knows his night will end tonight. After dinner and whatever with his dad, he’ll end up sitting alone on his bed reading the next volume of Old Republic, while his phone sits silently next to him. Same as every other night. And, god, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. </p>
<p>Dave took a breath to steady himself, which certainly did not go unnoticed by Kurt. “Dave...”</p>
<p>“There is something I...I want to ask.”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Fuck...I don’t even know how to ask...”</p>
<p>Kurt stepped forward, putting his hand on Dave’s forearm. “Whatever it is, it’ll be ok.”</p>
<p>“I’m really lonely Kurt.” </p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I miss just doing stuff with friends - and I know I’m not supposed to miss him, but I do miss goofing off with Az. I just miss having friends.” </p>
<p>“Dave, I…”</p>
<p>“I mean...I never had a lot of friends, even before all this happened. But now I have...well you and my dad. And, I guess...I feel so bad sometimes cause you spend so much time with me, so I’m not so alone, and I love that you do that for me...and I know you keep offering to let me hang out with you and your friends...so I was just, wondering, if maybe...that offer was still open.”</p>
<p>Kurt’s face, which had fallen into a look of concern, exploded into a radiant smile, as though he’d been waiting for this moment. “Of course! Dave, you can hang out with us anytime you want!”</p>
<p>“And they’re not going to judge me or pity me or...hate me or anything?”</p>
<p>“Is that what you’re worried about?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.”</p>
<p>“Dave, I promise you, that you have more people who are worried and care about you than you even realize. And no one is going to judge you for anything - and lord help them if they say one wrong thing about my friend.”</p>
<p>“Yeah...just sometimes after everything, it’s hard to really see that. You’re really too good to me, Kurt.”</p>
<p>“Remember, it’s going to be the year of Dave...and you’re one of my best friends, I’ll always look out for you.”</p>
<p>“I am?” Dave blinked incredulously. </p>
<p>“Yes, you are. And I’m here, no matter what - you want friends, we’ll get you friends.”</p>
<p>“Thank you Kurt. You’re… well you’re my best friend, I hope you know that.” </p>
<p>“I know. “ Kurt’s smile got wider. </p>
<p>“Also, can we rethink the whole year of Dave thing, I still think that’s a dumb slogan.”</p>
<p>“No we can't, so deal with it. And look, after everything that’s happened...Quinn’s accident, your attempt...” Kurt’s voice dropped off at the mention of Dave’s suicide attempt.  “We need to stick together.”</p>
<p>“Yeah...I guess.”</p>
<p>“Dave, I promise, you’ll be completely accepted.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Kurt.”</p>
<p> “So, what are you doing, now?”</p>
<p>“Right now? Um, going home to put a frozen lasagna in the oven and wait for my dad to come home.”</p>
<p>Kurt stared at him for a moment, as though he was trying to gauge whether Dave was telling him the truth. “Oh my god. you’re serious.”</p>
<p>“Yeah...of course I am.”</p>
<p>Kurt shook his head. “Dave, it’s a Friday night, you’re telling me that you’re going home to heat up a frozen dinner and hang out with your dad?”</p>
<p>“We’ll probably watch a movie...” Even as he said it, Dave realized just how lame his night sounded.  </p>
<p>“So, other than the times that we’ve hung out alone, is that what you usually do?”</p>
<p>“Yeah...sometimes it includes therapy or homework and reading. But, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”</p>
<p>“Ok. You’ve just had a change in plans.”</p>
<p>“I did?” Dave could feel a small rising swirl of anxiety in his gut. </p>
<p>“Yeah. A few of us are going to the Bean and then we might go back to my place to order pizza or something. I want you to come with us.”</p>
<p>“How many people?” Dave felt the anxiety increasing.</p>
<p>“Not a lot...like maybe six of us - Me, Mercedes, Finn, Rachel, Tina and now you.”</p>
<p>Dave nodded...seriously, he had to stop that! “Yeah...yeah, I guess I’d be ok with that. I have to call my dad first though.”</p>
<p>“Of course! I’m going to go tell them you’re coming.” With that Kurt spun on his heel and hurried away, he paused halfway down the hallway and turned back. “Dave. I promise you’ll have a good time!”</p>
<p>Dave frowned as he dug out his phone, he opened up the contacts - there were just four: his dad, Kurt, Dr. Richardson and the Trevor Project - which had been a just in case type thing. He tapped on his dad’s name.  </p>
<p>“Hey kid!” It barely even rang.</p>
<p>“Hey dad.”</p>
<p>“What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Um, I know we were going to watch that Sean Connery movie, but Kurt invited me to go with him and his friends for dinner...is that ok?”</p>
<p>“Ok?! That’s fantastic! See, I told you everything would work out.”  </p>
<p>“Well, I haven’t hung out with them yet.”</p>
<p>“You’ll have fun.”</p>
<p>“Yeah...will you be ok for dinner?”  He felt oddly protective. </p>
<p>“Yeah. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Might get Taco Bell and continue my little self-education mission.”</p>
<p>“Ok...you’re not going to watch Brokeback Mountain again, are you? Cause last time you cried and then I cried and then we both couldn’t stop crying.”</p>
<p>“No, I thought I’d watch Milk - with Sean Penn.”</p>
<p>“Dad! That’s even more depressing!”</p>
<p>“I want to know more about the gay community, Dave.” </p>
<p>“Well, I thought your PFLAG was helping, and couldn’t you watch a happy gay movie?”</p>
<p>“They do help - but Kurt gave me that list of movies, so I’m watching them. And we said we’d watch The Birdcage together this weekend - that’s happy!”</p>
<p>“Okay. I just don’t like how sad some of this stuff makes you. And I’m looking forward to watching that. And you’re sure you’ll be okay if I go, cause otherwise I could just...”</p>
<p>“David. Please...go. Have fun. I’ll be fine with my tacos and sad movie.”</p>
<p>“Okay, I’ll try. I’ll call you if I’m super late.” Dave breathed a small sigh of worry. </p>
<p>“I know. Or maybe send me a text once in a while...and no drinking!”</p>
<p>“I’ll stick to Sprite. I promise.”</p>
<p>“Good. Have fun. And don’t worry so much, Dave. Just try to have a good time.”</p>
<p>“Thanks...bye dad. I love you.”</p>
<p>“Love you too!”</p>
<p>Dave pressed End Call. In the distance, he could hear Kurt and his friends approaching. God, he hoped this was a good idea.  </p>
<p>He smiled as Kurt rounded the corner with Rachel and Mercedes - Kurt’s face could have lit up a room, and Dave was almost relieved with surprise that the two girls were also smiling at him. Maybe he could do this. Maybe it would be alright. He sucked in a breath and tried to push down the anxiety that was boiling in his stomach. </p>
<p>“Hey!” Kurt said, “All good?”</p>
<p>“Yeah...all good. He’s gonna watch another movie from that list you gave him.” </p>
<p>“Not Brokeback again?”</p>
<p>“No, Milk this time.” </p>
<p>“Well, that’s even worse.”</p>
<p>“I told him that! And can you remind me to text my dad a couple times?”</p>
<p>“David,” Rachel stepped up and grabbed his arm, her eyes intently locked on him. “I personally will make sure you text him at least every couple hours.” </p>
<p>“Uh, okay. Thanks.” Dave gave her a small smile. Behind him he could hear Mercedes mumbling something under her breath, and Kurt’s whispering, “Mercedes, be nice!” Dave rubbed his sweaty palm on the thighs of his jeans, hoping whatever she was upset about didn’t involve him. He closed his eyes and geared himself up as Kurt grabbed his other elbow and led him out of the school.   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title taken from: Stars - “No one is lost” (https://youtu.be/1C5I5kHrNqg)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Don't wanna bore you with my frail state of mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: suicidal thoughts, discussion of suicide attempt,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dave’s never really been a people person. Even as a little kid, he preferred to play on his own.  And yeah, he had a best friend and maybe a couple other kids that he hung out with, but he was always happiest when he could just hunker down with his action figures, his lego or his comics. It wasn’t that he was a loner, he just found better comfort in his own company than in other people. He was happy doing things on his own - it made things easier and lessened his anxieties. And over the years - especially the last couple years, while he was actively committed to cementing his closet door permanently shut - Dave got even better at surviving on his own.</p><p>Sure, he put on a good face at school. Acting like he was one of the guys - using football as his cover story. Pretending he was just as straight as anyone else on the football team or hockey team. Which meant he had to connect with the other guys. He had to be good at talking about football, or which cheerleader he found the hottest, and he had to learn how to manage not throwing up over the constant talk about pussy or breasts. He did whatever he had to do to make it look like he was one hundred percent normal, and if that meant he had to bury himself in a cloak of anger, so be it. Whatever it took to make sure anyone who looked at him would think - yeah that guy’s one hundred percent straight. And he’d done a good job of it, until it all blew up in his face.</p><p>But he had never really been that guy. He had hated every minute of that facade - hated everything about that awful person he’d been. He despised himself - what he had become - and he despised the people he had surrounded himself with. But, at the time, he had no idea what his options were. He had no idea what else to do. </p><p>So he had buried himself - he had buried the real Dave Karofsky. He had effectively killed off the fun loving guy with a passion for sci-fi and who could quote verbatim every Star Wars movie. He’d done away with the goofy guy who could talk about comic books for hours - the big kid who thought cartoons were still kinda cool or who enjoyed sitting up on Saturday nights watching mysteries with his dad. He’d pushed down the guy who loved science and math and getting good grades - because straight jocks don’t get good grades. And he’d certainly gotten rid of the guy who liked boys - the way they laughed, the way they moved, the way they smelled. No, that guy had been the first to go. And what had replaced them? A scared, angry and hateful child. Fear - fear and anger had become his personality. For the past three years, the only thing he’d known was fear - fear of exposure, fear of recrimination, fear of rejection, fear of being hated.  </p><p>But not once, with all the fear and anger swirling around him, did he ever think about what would happen when the facade came crashing down. What would happen when his closet door got dive bombed and he was left exposed and wanting. He never thought about the nuclear wasteland of a social life that he would have to wade through - alone. </p><p>Dave knew that if he had just opened up to people last year, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation. He wouldn’t be a suicide survivor, he wouldn’t be so lonely and he wouldn’t hurt quite so much. No, maybe if he’d been brave enough to walk up to Kurt last year and say “I’m gay and I need help”, he would have real friends of his own, or maybe even a boyfriend. And he certainly wouldn’t be sitting in The Lima Bean listening to Rachel Berry blab on and on about some fancy New York school for musical theater nerds. Not that being a nerd was bad - Kurt did like calling him the king of the geeks, after all.</p><p>But, here he is. Two months out of the hospital, after trying to hang himself, sitting across from Rachel and trying very hard to pretend he’s interested in whatever it is she’s going on about. </p><p>He can feel Kurt sitting next to him, leaning forward, chin propped up on one hand - enthralled. Sometimes, Dave doesn’t really understand what Kurt gets out of their friendship - and he’s going to have to spend some time examining Kurt’s admission about Dave being one of his best friends. That piece of news is certainly thought provoking. But they seem so diametrically opposed when it comes to interests. For every Star Wars reference Dave can make - and he can make a lot - Kurt can come back with a broadway reference. For every football stat or comic book fact that Dave cites, Kurt rolls his eyes and talks about the Versace 1992 collection - complete with a runway show found on youtube. Their friendship just shouldn’t work - but it does - and Dave wouldn’t give it up for the world. In all honesty, Dave has no idea what he would do without Kurt - the boy had been his emotional rock right from the start of Dave’s recovery. </p><p>Always there as a supportive ear or a strong and steady hand for Dave to grasp when he gets overwhelmed. And Kurt’s never once shied away from hugging Dave or offering the intense physical closeness they routinely shared - something that Dave often just craved. It felt so strange to have Kurt be willing to hug him or hold him or touch him in the million different ways Kurt lets Dave touch him - it makes no sense, especially after last year. </p><p>Dave had brought that up, just once and had been cut down so efficiently, his head had nearly spun. </p><p>
  <em>“Kurt - are you sure you’re okay holding me like this? I mean after last year…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Stop! That wasn’t you - I think we can all see that now. That was...someone else. Either your depression or some version of it created that person, Dave. I’ve forgiven you - I like the person I’m getting to know now. And if you need me to hug you and hold you, then that’s what we’ll do. So, stop Dave. No more beating yourself up over what happened in the past! Just stop it and let me help you.”</em>
</p><p>So Dave had sighed and let himself be pulled into Kurt’s arms again. </p><p>Dave had been equally surprised over the phone calls - the endless hours they would sit on the phone together, sometimes in complete silence - just so Dave can hear that there’s someone there. Sometimes just talking about nothing. Sometimes talking about Dave’s feelings and the immense sadness that still surrounds him. Sometimes talking about Kurt’s plans and his feelings of inadequacy in the face of others - which Dave would try his best to dispel. And, perhaps most surprising, were his own feelings. He still cared for Kurt - he probably still loved Kurt - but his need for a friend seemed to override those other feelings. For now, anyways</p><p>At first he worried it wasn’t healthy - the way their friendship was developing - how Kurt was giving up time with Blaine or his other friends. He worried that it would become some kind of codependent thing, but Kurt had waved those concerns away and just let the friendship bloom. And Dave knows that without Kurt, he would have never survived the last two months.. </p><p>And now, once again, Kurt was tossing him a lifeline - helping him the climb out of the pit of loneliness he’d found himself trapped in.</p><p>Dave let his eyes roam around the table - ever since he and Kurt had gotten to The Lima Bean, not a single one of Kurt’s friends had been anything but super nice to him. Tina - looking like she was going to cry the whole time - had asked him about his classes, telling him that if he needed help to ask her. Finn had told him that they missed him on the football team, but said they understood that Dave wasn’t willing to join up again, but promised to help him get back into the gym if he wanted a workout partner. Rachel had asked him about what kinds of music he liked - and when he expressed a preference for alternative rock, indie bands and sync-pop, she’d immediately demanded he produce a playlist, right after listing about fifty bands he’d never heard of. </p><p>And now, as he listened Rachel explain her excitement for an advanced tap class, he glanced over at Mercedes, who was sitting next to him. She was the only one who had not really talked to him since they’d gotten to the Bean. Currently, she was completely ignoring Rachel and everyone else, and instead was doodling on a sheet of paper in front of her. She looked insanely bored. And he couldn’t really blame her - listening to Rachel holding court wasn't exactly stimulating. </p><p>If he was being completely honest with himself, Mercedes terrified him. When Dave the Tormentor was around, Dave avoided ever running across her - she seemed so strong and sure of herself and he knew she wouldn’t never have taken his bullshit. Everytime he crossed her path, he felt exposed - like she could see right through his facade. And he’d been almost certain that she would have exposed him in seconds to get him to stop his bullshit behavior. There had been days when he’d fantasized about actually letting her do something like that - just to end the torment he’d felt every day. </p><p>And now he was still intimidated by her - mainly because he knew that Kurt considered her one of his closest friends, so she probably had very little nice to say about him. And he was worried that, if she wanted to, she could convince Kurt to drop him as a friend. Not that he thought Kurt would actually do that, but his brain didn’t always like seeing reason.</p><p>But at the same time, she fascinated him - she was so strong, so larger than life, and yet carried herself with this quiet confidence that wowed him. So, he felt this strong pull to be her friend - not that he expected her to want that. </p><p>He knew that Az had always had a major crush on her - unsurprisingly. And there had been a time when Dave would often fantasize about him and Kurt getting together and going on double dates with Az and Mercedes. Those had been the hardest fantasies becuase he knew Kurt didn’t want him, and Az would rather be found dead than be seen with two gay guys. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kurt smile at him and nod in Mercedes' direction - encouraging him to talk to her. So, taking a deep fortifying breath, he leaned over towards her. “Does she talk like this all the time?”</p><p>Mercedes looked up, a surprised expression on her face. She looked confused as to why he was talking to her. Dave immediately felt silly in trying to start a conversation. He just shook his head, “Sorry...I didn’t mean to disturb...”</p><p>“Oh hush. I just wasn’t expecting you to talk to me...you seem so quiet. You’ve barely said ten words since we got here.”</p><p>“Yeah...I guess I am. I’m not used to these kinds of situations.”</p><p>“Being out - with friends?”</p><p>Dave chuckled slightly. “Honestly, yeah. I ‘ve never been very good at making a lot of friends. I mean, I had one or two - but I get super anxious around groups of people, especially now.” </p><p>“I’m sorry.” She looked sad as she said it. </p><p>“Thanks. I’m trying to do better.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready to do it! But I’m glad you came out with us.” </p><p>“Well, after.. .everything… I guess I found myself wanting to make some more friends.  And...well, Kurt...”</p><p>“Offered to help?”</p><p>“Offered to be my friend, actually… but I guess I want to have more than just one friend.”</p><p>“You know,” she interrupted,  “I hated you last year.”</p><p>“I know...I was...horrible to all of you.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you just come talk to us?” Mercedes‘ voice dropped to an angry whisper. “We would have helped you. We would have protected you.”</p><p>“I was so scared. And why would you have done that?”</p><p>“Because when you fall down, your friends pick you up.” She said as though it was the most natural thing in the world.</p><p>“Sometimes it’s hard to ask for help when you’re scared out of your mind...”</p><p>“I know.  But I can promise you that you have friends now, and we’ll be there, whether you ask for it or not.”</p><p>Dave nodded, frowning. “Thank you. I think...I want to be your friend.”</p><p>“Good. Cause I have to tell you, Kurt and I are a sort of a package deal.”</p><p>Dave smiled at that. “Cool. I can handle that. And thank you for letting me come today.”</p><p>She gives him a look, it’s this cross between disbelief and surprise. “Dave, we’ve been asking Kurt to get you to hang out with us since you came back to McKinley. We’re worried about you.” </p><p>“You are?”</p><p>“Yes! God - I know Kurt says this to you all the time, but you’re not alone. And you need to start just hanging out with us at school, okay?” </p><p>“Okay. I’ll try. Thank you.” </p><p>As Mercedes is about to ask him something else, Kurt’s elbow jabs itself, roughly, into Dave’s side. He turned his head to find Kurt smiling at him. “What are you two talking about?”</p><p>Dave smiles back, brightly. “Um...just, you know, getting to know each other.”</p><p>“Dave and I were lamenting on the sheer boredom of listening to Rachel talk about how amazing her future is going to be.” Mercedes said in a loud enough voice for the rest of the table to hear.</p><p>“Excuse me!” Rachel shot out, in an indignant voice. “Just because some of us are destined for stardom and a life of fabulousness, doesn’t mean you can make fun!”</p><p>“Whatever.” Mercedes mumbled back, dropping her pen and turning towards Kurt. “Dave’s coming to your place for pizza, right Kurt?”</p><p>Kurt leans over the table, smiling. “Of course!” </p><p>“Good, I’m recruiting him to the no more New York City talk squad for the night. You’re cool with that Dave? ” </p><p>“Uh, okay.” Dave blushed slightly, not sure where to look, not wanting to offend anyone. </p><p>“Excellent, excuse me I’m going to use the ladies room.” Mercedes stands up and wanders off towards the back of the coffeeshop. </p><p>“Ignore them.” Kurt whispered with an exasperated sigh. “This is a constant argument.”</p><p>“Oh, um, ok. I just don’t want to make anyone mad.”</p><p>“You won’t. But it is safe to say that Mercedes has already adopted you.” </p><p>“I hope she knows what she’s signed up for, I’m barely housetrained.”</p><p>“Don’t be an idiot.”</p><p>“I’m always an idiot - it’s like half my personality.”</p><p>Kurt rolled his eyes. “Okay, change of topic! Dave, have you figured out where you’re applying to school?” Kurt turned his entire body to face Dave. It always freaked Dave out whenever Kurt did this, and in the two months of hanging out together, it had happened a lot. Kurt had this way of giving you his complete attention - mind, body, eyes...everything. The stare was so penetrating that it felt like you couldn’t escape it no matter how hard you tried. </p><p>Kurt’s gaze was worse than the Eye of Sauron. Suddenly Dave pictured a giant flaming Kurt standing on a tower, causing him to giggle. </p><p>“What’s so funny?”  Kurt looked confused.  </p><p>“Nothing...it wouldn’t be funny to anyone but me.”</p><p>“Which means it’s something nerdy.” Kurt smirked and shook his head. </p><p>“Yeah, it’s very nerdy. Anyways, you asked me where I’m going to school?”</p><p>“Yes. What school will be the start to Dave’s fabulous new life?”</p><p>“I don’t know...I applied to Ohio State before...everything...but I don’t know if that’s where I want to go. My dad and I are going to talk about it and think of some places. He wants me to get as far from Lima as I can.”</p><p>“I agree with him on that.”</p><p>“David!” Rachel suddenly leaned forward, with a look of absolute excitement on her face. “You should come to New York with Kurt and I!”</p><p>“Uh, well, NYU is on my list. But it’s hard to know where to go when I don’t know what I want to do.” </p><p>“Hey,” Kurt frowned slightly. “I thought you had that all worked out - sports agent to the stars!”</p><p>“Really!?” Finn suddenly looked very interested in the conversation. “Dave, that would be so cool.”</p><p>“Thanks man. And yeah, I mean that is something I’ve thought a lot about. I used to think about being a high school teacher or something, but now I think...” Dave suddenly got very bashful and just stared down at his now empty cup of hot chocolate.  </p><p>“Think what?” Kurt and Rachel leaned forward, eyes intent. </p><p>Dave sighed, he hated talking about himself so much! He watched as Merecedes sat back down, looking at him with a vague expression of concern. He sighed, if he could talk about this in those damn essays, then he could do this now - with his friends. “After everything that’s happened to me. The bullying - the death threats - feeling so...desperate that I actually believed that it would be better if I…” He trailed off, hating talking about those few weeks just after being outed. He felt a warm hand on his - Kurt once again giving him the support he barely realised he needed at this moment. “I don’t wanna bring everyone down.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Dave.” Mercedes whispered quietly. “Tell us.”</p><p>He nodded and gathered his thoughts - he’ll just treat it like the essay. “I just keep thinking about how alone I felt - like there was no one in the entire world I could talk to. And how scared I was - how desperate I felt. And the more alone and scared I felt, the more sense it made to just not be here anymore. That everything would just be better if I... “ His voice broke and he shut his eyes. Besides Kurt, his dad and his doctors - and those essays - this would be the first group of people he was going to talk about this with.</p><p>Kurt leaned towards him. “Dave, it’s okay - you don’t have to.” </p><p>“No. I’m not going to get better if I don’t try to talk about this Kurt, you know that.”</p><p>“Okay. But go slow.”</p><p>“It started as this tiny thought - just that maybe they were right. And then it got bigger and bigger - and I started picturing what it would be like. How I would do it - that was the worst. Lying in bed and thinking about how and if it would hurt. Who would be the most sad - and for a while, I, um, I couldn’t think of anyone who would be sad. So, I became convinced that those assholes at my old school were right. It just made sense. It was like, what other option did I have. And that was one of the worst feelings in the entire world. And nobody - especially not a kid - should be made to feel that way. So, the more I think about it - being a sports agent, it’s just not that important to me anymore. I think...I want to do something...good. Like really good. Like help people...help kids like me. Kids who have nowhere else to go, you know?  I dunno...I just like the idea of doing something...significant.”</p><p>Dave let his voice trail off into a mumble. He was breathing hard, he was on the verge of crying. He played with his cup. The silence at the table was immense, then Mercedes pulled him into a tight hug. With a sigh, he let himself fall against her. She softly whispered, “You’re never going to feel that way again, Dave.”  </p><p>He smiled against her shoulder. He suddenly felt a pressure against his back, but it was a familiar and very welcome pressure - he knew Kurt was hugging him from behind. Then Tina was also wrapping her arms around his neck - followed closely by Rachel and even Finn. Dave felt slightly suffocated, but he in a good way. He realized quite suddenly that he did have friends - this group of people whom he had thought would turn away from him because of his past, just wanted to accept him and appreciate the fact that he was still alive. </p><p>Oh crap. He was no longer on the verge, he was fully crying now - he  could feel the burn of tears. He felt Mercedes tighten her arms around him and he heard Kurt whisper “It’s okay Dave.” He sat there, fully aware that he was underneath a giant pile of people in a very public place, crying his eyes out. </p><p>Slowly, he felt them start to pull away. He sat up, his eyes blurry and very red. Kurt handed him a napkin, he nodded his thanks. He could feel them watching him - he needed to get away, even for just a second. He blew his nose and then pushed his chair pack. “I’ll be right back, sorry.” </p><p>He hurried to the bathroom, pushing through the door and gripping the sink. He switched on the cold water - knowing that the cold would sting when it hits his raw eyes, but it would feel good. He leaned over and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked wrecked - his eyes were raw and red. His chubby face was pale, he looked tired. So far today, he’d cried about five different times - he wasn't sure how much more he could handle. There was the rising curl of panic in his chest - he needed to calm down, or else he was going to have an anxiety attack. He screwed his eyes closed and sucked in a deep calming breath, exactly the way he’d been taught. </p><p>He heard the bathroom door open and then Kurt was standing next to him. Kurt didn’t even say anything, he just rubbed small circles into Dave’s back. Dave hummed in appreciation. </p><p>“You okay?” Kurt’s voice was low. </p><p>Dave just nodded, then sighed. “No.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. Talking about it is still hard, I know. But I think they appreciated you opening up.” </p><p>“I wasn’t really expecting to just spill my guts like that.” </p><p>“Was it just overwhelming?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dave’s voice sounded a little ragged. “I know you kept saying I’m not alone, but it’s different when suddenly they’re all hugging me. I feel so damn emotional all the time.” </p><p>“I told them you can be a little emotionally raw - I hope it didn’t turn you off hanging out.” </p><p>“No. Kurt, it was great. I mean - I’m probably always going to be quiet and a bit shy, but I’d like to hang out still.” </p><p>“Good. Still want to come over?”</p><p>“Can we try to avoid having me cry more? This is like the fifth time today, I don’t know how much more I can take.”</p><p>“I can’t promise anything - you know how Carole gets, but we can try.” </p><p>“Sometimes, I wish I was more like a Jedi - almost no emotions.” </p><p>“Only you would make a joke like that right now.” </p><p>“Thank you for being here Kurt.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, Dave. And where else am I going to be? Now come on, splash your face and let’s go - pizza awaits.” </p><p>*********************</p><p>Kurt opened the front door to his house and ushered Dave inside. Dave was so used to coming here that he almost had a little routine - jacket off and hung up on the hooks by the door, shoes pulled off and carefully tucked away on the shoe rack, and then quickly shuffling into the kitchen to get a hug from Kurt’s stepmom. He did it all without barely a word to Kurt. </p><p>Today, however, it was not Carole in the kitchen, instead Burt Hummel was leaning against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. He brightened at the sight of Dave. </p><p>“Dave! I didn’t know you were coming! This is a lovely surprise!” </p><p>“Hi Mr. Hummel.” Dave gave a sheepish grin as he was pulled into a firm hug. He marvelled over the rather remarkable change in circumstances since last year - a year ago, he probably would have been arrested if he’d shown up at Kurt’s house. Now, Dave’s presence was completely commonplace. Burt Hummel had seemingly adopted both Dave and his dad - often coming by the house to check on them or dragging Paul out for coffees or beers. Dave and Kurt had decided their dads were bonding over their gay sons. </p><p>Dave’s past transgressions seemed to have completely disappeared - Burt had become as constant a presence for the Karofskys as Kurt was and Burt seemed to become as fiercely protective of Dave as he was his own son - which naturally had made Dave cry a few times. The first time had been about a week after Dave had gotten home from the hospital when Burt had quietly sat down next to Dave, speaking low and urgently. “If you ever need someone - or you feel like you don’t know where to go or what to do and your dad isn’t around. You come find me - wherever I am. You find me, okay Dave? But you’re never to think you have to be alone again.” Even through the Zoloft fog, Dave had felt the impact of those words, his tears had come hard and fast - soaking into Burt’s soft flannel shirt.  </p><p>Today, as Burt pulled back from the hug, he gave Dave a small slap on his shoulder. “So, Kurt finally got you to spend time with his friends?”</p><p>“Actually, it was my dad - he told me to just try.” </p><p>“He’s a smart man. Is it going well?”</p><p>“Yessir.” </p><p>“Good. Your dad and I are getting dinner tomorrow.” </p><p>“He told me, sir. He’s looking forward to it - I think he gets tired of hanging out with me all the time.” </p><p>“Quit it with the sir stuff, Dave. Just call me Burt. And you could’ve fooled me, you’re all he talks about when we hang out.” </p><p>Dave blushed and looked down. He heard Burt laughing, “Don’t get all bashful Dave, he’s proud of you.” Immediately, Dave wonders exactly what his dad was proud of, but he knows that's a bad thought - that’s the kind of thought Dr. Anderson gets very annoyed by. He gave a small shrug - not sure what else to do or say. Burt could instantly sense his discomfort, he put an arm around Dave’s shoulder. “I know things still seem hard, but you’ll be okay.”</p><p>“Thanks si...er, Burt. Sorry. That’ll take getting used to. And I still get weird with compliments.” </p><p>“I know. Anyways, I’m glad you’re here. And, I know Kurt’s friends can be a bit much - especially Rachel - so if you need to get away from them, I’m hanging out in the garage. Come out and we can talk.” </p><p>“My friends are not a bit much, dad!” Kurt swept into the kitchen - a smile on his face as he took in how comfortable his dad seemed to be hugging Dave. “They are the right amount of much.” </p><p>“Whatever you say, Kurt. Just try not to let poor Dave get too overwhelmed.” </p><p>Dave blushed even harder. </p><p>“Dad, they are all going to be on their best behaviour.” Kurt wandered over to the bulletin board that was on the far kitchen wall, “Do we still have the menu for that one pizza place? And I hope that’s decaf.” </p><p>“Yes, it’s up there somewhere. And you’re not the boss of me - I am still your father” </p><p>Kurt spun around, eyes bright, “No, Carole is. I’m the proxy when she’s not here.” </p><p>Burt sighed, gave Dave’s shoulder another squeeze and then pushed himself off the counter. “Have fun with your friends - and remember, Dave, if they get too much, please come find me in the garage or in here.” He then wandered out of the kitchen, mumbling to himself and shaking his head. </p><p>Dave smiled and called out, “I will Mr… Burt. Thanks.” He turned to Kurt, “Don’t be so hard on your dad. He’s one of my two favorite dads. But I don’t know if I can keep calling him Burt, it feels weird.” </p><p>“Mine too. Yeah, that’d be like me calling your dad Paul, it’s wrong! But my dad is going to insist.” </p><p>“I’ll try.” Dave shrugged. “So where are we getting pizza from?”</p><p><br/>“Fat Jack’s... here…” Kurt held out a menu for his favorite pizza place, “if we order before the others get here, we can avoid having to spend two hours arguing about toppings. And, dear god, get something with pineapple - it’s the only way to make sure Finn doesn’t eat everything himself.”</p><p>Dave laughed and took the menu as he heard the front door open and Mercedes’ voice yell out, “No pineapple, Kurt! No pineapple!”</p><p>-/-</p><p>“Look, I’m just saying, it's his first time hanging out with us, so Dave should get to pick the movie.” Finn was standing by the bookcase, that holds a rather impressive collection of DVDs, in the Hummel living room. “It’s only fair!”</p><p>“Finn,” Rachel, who is already holding a copy of Moulin Rouge in her hands, is smiling as she shakes her head. “Just because Dave is another guy, doesn’t mean he’s going to pick a guy’s movie. Right Kurt!? We shouldn’t stereotype.” </p><p>Kurt looks up from his plate of pizza and leaned towards Dave, whispering, “You’ll totally pick Star Wars if they let you, won’t you?” </p><p>Dave just blushes and leans into Kurt’s shoulder. “I could go with any sci-fi, but yeah it is a safe bet. But I’ve made you watch it a lot - I can find something else.”</p><p>“Don’t worry - they might not actually ask you, we usually argue for a while before picking.” </p><p>Dave chuckled and took another bite of his pizza.  </p><p>From his other side, Mercedes huffed in slight annoyance. “Guys, I don’t think I can handle Nicole Kidman’s shit singing or Tina’s loud crying tonight. So I say Dave gets to pick.” </p><p>“I am not a loud crier! And I agree, we said we were going to make Dave feel completely welcome, so no sad movies. I say he picks. Dave…what would you like to watch?” </p><p>Dave suddenly felt every eye on the room turned on him and his entire face grew hot. If there was one thing he hated more than talking about himself, it was being the center of attention. He opened his mouth, having no idea what he was going to say. He glanced at Finn - who was standing at the bookcase with a smile on his face. </p><p>Okay, this was not a big deal - this was tiny, insignificant really. He was just being asked to pick a movie to watch with friends. He could do this - it was simple. He picked movies all the time - with his dad, with Kurt, by himself. He handed Kurt his plate and pushed himself off the couch, shuffling himself over to Finn. He would just pretend it was just him and Kurt - pretend there was no one else in the room who might judge him or his movie tastes. That would work. And suddenly, he completely forgot about Tina or Mercedes or Finn - this was just a hang out with Kurt, he was just going to watch a movie with Kurt.</p><p>His eyes immediately scanned the shelves - mostly musicals, romantic comedies, and a lot of war and spy films - those were Burt’s. He glanced back at Kurt, smirking. “Said it before, and I’ll say it again, this is a real shit collection Kurt. There’s no sci-fi - except what I lent you!.” </p><p>“Maybe I got rid of them all - if I want to watch one, I can borrow from your ridiculously large collection. And there’s totally sci-fi there!”</p><p>“Rocky Horror does not count.” Dave rolled his eyes and grabbed his copies of Avatar, Star Wars and Wall-E - only two of which he knew Kurt had actually watched. He plopped them down on the coffee table. “One of these - all of which are mine, by the way.” </p><p>Kurt laughed, and shook his head. “I knew you’d pick Star Wars.” </p><p>“I’m giving it as an option, so you can just keep quiet.” Dave shuffled back to the sofa and sat down carefully so as not to disturb Kurt or Mercedes. He glanced at the girl next to him, who was staring at him with a look of shock. He immediately felt self-conscious. “Sorry, if you’re not a fan of sci-fi.” </p><p>“No, Dave, that’s not it. That was...you just seemed different. Less the quiet guy we’ve seen today.” </p><p>Dave shrugged - he knew exactly what she meant. When it was just him and Kurt, he let himself - his real self - come out. The geeky and silly guy that was buried underneath all the personal and emotional trauma he’d laid on top of himself over the past three years. It was not something he let many other people see - he was so afraid of reciminiation. But never with Kurt - Kurt got the full force of Geek Dave. He turned back to his pizza, watching as Finn picked up Avatar and slipped into the DVD player. </p><p>“Sometimes I just get less shy...guess movies bring that out in me.” He internally rolled his eyes at his little white lie. It was Kurt - always Kurt - who brought Dave out of his shell. </p><p>Mercedes patted his leg. “I hope I get to see more of him.”</p><p>Dave smiled. He glanced over at Kurt who was grinning at him. Dave cocked an eyebrow questioningly - they might not be able to assume their usual movie watching position, but Dave was hopeful of something. Kurt nodded at his shoulder, so Dave settled back into the couch leaning into Kurt and letting his head fall against Kurt’s shoulder. He sighed contentedly - already feeling much his anxieties falling away. </p><p>He saw Mereceds and Rachel watching them with a look of surprise and he knew Kurt would be in for quite the inquisition later. But he imagined Kurt was more than willing to defend their friendship - and the physical nature of it. </p><p>Then, moments later, he felt Mercedes lean against him and a warm rush of protectiveness flooded his body. He felt safe like this - squished between Kurt and Mercedes. He watched as the others found their own spots, and while Rachel complained to Finn about his wanting the entire recliner to himself. This felt normal - completely and utterly normal - and he was a part of it. He felt almost like a regular teenager again. </p><p>Almost. </p><p>-/-</p><p>Dave opened his front door and stepped into the quiet entranceway. It was strangely dark - usually his dad was in the living room at this time, watching tv or reading. Tonight, the lights were all off. The only light seemed to be coming from the kitchen. </p><p>Dave dropped his shoes on the floor and walked into the kitchen, stopping short as he did. His dad was sitting at the kitchen table - wearing an old Yankees tank top and soccer shorts, which served as his usual sleep wear. Paul’s hair looked a complete mess, like he’d been worrying it for hours. Next to him was a bottle of whiskey and a box of tissues, plus a large pile of used tissues. His face was in his hands, his entire body was shaking with sobs. </p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>Paul lifted his head - his eyes were red and wet with tears. His face was a mask of sorrow and surprise at seeing Dave. He tried to give a shaky smile. “Hey Dave.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Dave immediately calculated how often he’d texted - he thought he’d done it every two hours, especially with Rachels’ insistence that he do so. But was that not enough? Should he have called or had he stayed out too late?  “Did I not text you enough? Did I come home too late? Are you okay?” Dave raced to the table, sliding into the chair next to him. “Dad?”</p><p>“No, you were great tonight - exactly the right amount of texts. I’m sorry, Dave….I’m just having a moment.”</p><p>“What’s wrong? Please, dad, you’re scaring me.” </p><p>“It just all hit me - I read your essay and I watched that damn movie and it all just hit me. I almost lost you - I...Dave, I love you so much. Sometimes, I just get so scared for you.” </p><p>Dave could feel that burn of tears again, but pushed it down. He didn’t want to cry - he wanted to be here for his dad. That’s what was important right now. “But I’m right here dad, I’m okay. I’m home now.” </p><p>Paul leaned against Dave, sighing. “I know. You’ll have to forgive me - your dad is going to be a basket case occasionally.” He pressed another tissue against his eyes and held it there for a second. Then, giving him a somewhat more confident smile, he looked back at Dave. “Did you have fun?”</p><p>“I did. They’re a nice group of people.” </p><p>“Good. Will you hang out with them again?”</p><p>“Yeah, Kurt’s friends Mercedes and Tina essentially told me that I’m to start calling them or they’ll just start showing up - they don’t want me to be so alone.” </p><p>“I’m glad. And you and Kurt are going to that youth group on Thursday?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Paul went silent for a moment, he seemed to be thinking. He gripped Dave’s hand - hard. “Dave - I think next week we need to have a serious talk about where you’re going to go to school, okay? I want you to have friends, but I also want you to get away from this place. I’m thinking we both might need to get away from here.”</p><p>Dave nodded. “I want that too dad. And are you thinking of moving?” </p><p>“I don’t know - but don’t worry about it for now, okay? It’s just a thought.” He gave Dave a reassuring pat on the arm. “Okay, come on, let’s get to bed. I’ve already decided that you’re in charge of breakfast.” Paul pushed himself up from the table, grabbing a handful of tissues and blowing his nose.</p><p>Dave smiled. “I’ll be right up dad.”</p><p>Paul nodded, squeezed Dave’s shoulder and silently made his way out of the kitchen. Dave sat at the table for a minute - listening to his dad head up the stairs. He sighed and closed his eyes. Sometimes the weight of what happened to him felt overpowering. But after tonight, he honestly felt like he might survive it.  He and his dad might survive it. And if that meant both of them leaving Lima far behind, then so be it. </p><p>As he filled a glass of water and shut off the kitchen light, he heard Mercedes' voice from when he’d dropped her off fifteen minutes earlier - “We’re all on Team Dave now, so one way or another, no one is going to hurt you again.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title comes from: The 1975 - Frail State of Mind (https://youtu.be/VOkUE0OB7V0)</p><p>If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or considering self harm - please know there are places you can go. <br/>National Suicide Prevention Hotline (US) - 1-800-273-8255<br/>Crisis Services Canada - 1-833-456-4566</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: homophobic language, mention of suicidal thoughts,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It has been six days since Dave’s initiation into Kurt’s circle of friends, and so far it seems like he hasn’t been left alone for a second. If it wasn’t Kurt keeping up with their regular calls, text or hang outs, then it was Mercedes, Tina or Rachel keeping him company. Plus, Finn had invited him to a video game night on Friday. And Santana had announced that she needed direct involvement - mostly to avoid having Dave fall prey to “the bubble-gum smelling, musical loving fairy crowd.” So, he started getting occasional invites from her - which had actually made him feel pretty good. Like their friendship could evolve beyond blackmail and mutual gain.</p><p>Currently, Dave was sitting in the courtyard at McKinley, at one of the concrete tables, watching as Mercedes and Kurt sat across from him - sharing a set of earbuds - and listening to some song for glee. They’d been listening to this same song for about the last hour and a half while Dave flipped idly through his Advanced Algebra textbook. He’d finally settled on working through this week’s set of problems when Mercedes restarted the track yet again, only this time she started singing quietly along, pushing an elbow into Kurt’s side - encouraging him to join in. It was so obvious that they wanted to go full out, but were trying to hold back for Dave’s sake. </p><p>Finally, he put his book down and glared at them until they both looked up at him. </p><p>Kurt pressed pause, took the earbud out, with a look of concern. “Everything okay Dave?”</p><p>“You know, if you guys need to practice, you don’t need to hang out here with me, right? You can go and I’ll be just fine working on my algebra.” </p><p>Mercedes shook her head. “Nope, we don’t want you to spend lunch all alone.” </p><p>“I will survive. I promise.” </p><p>Kurt glanced at Mercedes, and then also started shaking his head, with this odd smile on his face. “How about you come with us to the auditorium! That way you can tell us what we’re doing wrong.” They were acting weird - something was up. </p><p>“Kurt, I don't think I’ll be all that helpful with that kind of stuff.” </p><p>“You had some very distinct opinions about Chicago when we watched that. Please Dave.” </p><p>Dave sighed and shrunk slightly under their gaze - he knew he wasn’t going to win this. Plus he was starting to feel anxious. “Fine - but I’m gonna be doing homework, not just telling you how great you are.” </p><p>Kurt smiled with a look of triumph on his face and jumped up. Kurt’s eyes, however, were in constant motion - scanning the other students. “Whatever, you’ve practically memorized that book by now.” </p><p>“That’s part of the point of math, Kurt. Memorization.” Dave grabbed his bottle of gatorade and stood up, trying to ignore whatever weirdness was happening. “Now come on, your stage awaits. Or whatever.” </p><p>Mercedes grabbed his arm and started leading him back into the school - she was practically tugging him along at a run. Dave struggled to keep up, he glanced at Kurt. “What is going on? You don’t have to babysit me, Kurt.” </p><p>“Today, we do.” </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>Kurt nodded to the other side of the courtyard, his brows furrowed. Dave glanced over - Az was standing there, leading against the concrete wall, watching him. His eyes were narrowed and he looked incredibly thunderous. Dave quickly glanced away again - trying to keep his composure as he let Mercedes practically race him into the school. “Fuck.” Dave muttered quietly.</p><p>Dave’s heart was hammering, which happened every time he saw his former friend. But he was happy to note that he wasn’t bolting into the nearest bathroom to sob, so that was some progress - he made a note to tell Dr. Anderson. He just felt queasy. He hated how awful Azimio could make him feel just with a look - how sudden and present that rejection still felt anytime they crossed paths. </p><p>That rejection - which had been so fast and so vicious - had been one of the first major pushes that eventually led Dave to his closet and that desk chair. It had felt more painful and murderous than almost every other hateful word that had been thrown at him. </p><p>He shuddered, trying to force his brain not to relive that dreadful conversation. He tried to focus on Mercedes’ hand in his, in the presence of Kurt at his side. But he knew it was a battle he wasn’t going to win - his brain was already rewinding back to that moment. Back to one of the first personal rejections that had cut so deeply. He could feel the memory coming - ricocheting endlessly inside his brain. </p><p>**************</p><p><br/>{Two Months Earlier}</p><p>Dave sat on the edge of his bed, gripping his phone in a near death grip. It felt like his brain was on fire - he couldn’t stop hearing those awful things or seeing those awful words. He couldn’t stop thinking about what people were telling him to do. He couldn’t stop thinking about how many people seemed to want him dead. He couldn't stop...hurting. He felt it in his head and his chest. He wanted to stop feeling - he wanted to stop everything. </p><p>“Why won’t Kurt answer his phone?!” His voice is a pained and hoarse whimper in the silence of his room. He grips his phone a little harder - willing it to do something. Willing Kurt to call him back. Willing someone to reach out and say something...nice. Maybe he should call his dad. Maybe his dad would come home and help him. No. He can’t do that - he can’t cause his dad even more disappointment. He can’t face that look again - those eyes that’ll say “Dave - why are you doing this to me.” Not after...not after what his mom had said. </p><p>He needs help. He needs someone. Anyone. It had been three days since he’d walked into the locker room and had seen FAG written across his locker. Three days since he’d run - run as fast and hard as he could. Three days since every single person in his life had turned against him. Three days since his world had completely turned upside down.</p><p>His hand shakes violently as he unlocks his phone. He thinks about calling Kurt again - but even that kind and brave boy seems to have turned away from him. Instead, without really thinking of what he's doing, he taps on his best friend’s name. Oh, god - why is he doing this? He already knows this is going to be a huge mistake! He hears someone pick up and he’s met with utter silence. </p><p>“Az…I need help...” His voice sounds strained and harsh - it didn’t sound like him. He hopes his friend will tell him to come over - will promise to protect him. </p><p>“Is it true?” Az’s anger is hard and present - he can feel it radiating through the phone. That anger murders any hope in Dave’s heart. He whimpers quietly.  </p><p>“What?” He should just hang up. Just hang up, Dave! Hang up the phone and go find your dad!</p><p>“What they’re saying - that you’re a fag?”</p><p>He could lie. He could brush this off - say it was some kind of misunderstanding. Some kind of awful prank or joke or something. He could say it was anything but the truth. He could try to hide again - which is all he wants to do. All he has been doing for the last three days - three days in his room, three days without showering or leaving the house. He could convince Az that this was all a lie - that it’s nothing. But he also knows it’s too far gone for that. The rumour is out there - the truth is out there. And this is Az - his best friend. He shouldn’t be angry at the whole gay thing, but angry at how his friend is being treated. This is Az - they’ve been through so much. </p><p>They’ve been through broken bones and parents getting divorced and grandmothers passing away and whispered confessions under bed sheet forts when they were five years old. They’ve been through Dave’s nervous breakdown last year. They’ve been through Az’s dad’s cancer and Dave’s mom’s abandonment and Dave’s dad’s heartbreak. They’ve been through so much. This should be nothing. Their friendship is stronger than this - it has to be.  </p><p>“Dave? Tell me if it’s fucking not true!”</p><p>He can’t lie. He can’t - he forces that hope to come back. Just a little - have just a little faith that Az’s anger is not because he’s gay, but because he’s being hurt. “Yes. It is. I’m gay.” There - he’s said it. He’s finally said it to someone, he’s said it to his best friend. His best friend - who will accept him and come over and help him. There is utter silence on the phone. A silence that runs on for entirely too long. He sits and nervously bites his lip. He wonders what Az is thinking. He wishes - not for the first time in his life - that he could read minds. He wishes he had even a little bit of Yoda’s power - just enough to help him get through life. “Az?”</p><p>“A fucking faggot.” Az sounds affronted - his tone is a weird mixture of anger and insult. Az sounds like he’d just discovered a whole pile of dog shit smeared on his shoe. “All this time, you’re a damn fag?” </p><p>That little glimmer of hope that he’d forced himself to build in his chest dies all over again. Dave’s head hangs low. “Az...please. I need help. The things they’re saying… I’m still Dave, man. Nothing’s changed. I’m still…”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re not my friend. You’re nothing like my friend - my friend wouldn’t be a fag.”</p><p>“Az, please...I need help.” </p><p>“I’ll never help you.”</p><p>“I… I…” </p><p>“I want nothing to do with you. Go fuck yourself… Faggot.” And then he’s gone. Dave hears the call disconnect and he’s alone again. He sits there, holding the phone as this numb feeling settles over him. His last chance  - his last possible hope. </p><p>Your dad, Dave. Go get your dad! </p><p>No. He shakes his head - his dad will just reject him too. His mom. Az. Kurt. His dad. None of them want him. No one wants him. </p><p>He glances up at his closet and the row of belts hanging on the door, just as his phone vibrates with another Facebook notification. He doesn’t need to open it - he knows what it says, what it’ll tell him to do. And he wonders - since his best friend can’t see past this - if maybe those messages might be telling him the truth. </p><p>Silent tears slide down his face as he finally lets himself consider, for the first time, a world without a Dave in it. </p><p>*************</p><p>The auditorium is quiet and cool - there's the faintest echo of people outside in the halls, but it gives the sensation of being on an entirely different planet. As if, while they’re in this room, they are totally separate from anything and everything else. It’s a little magical. </p><p>Dave breathes a sigh of relief as the auditorium doors slam closed behind him. The sound of the doors seem to help him shut out the awful memories. Of those terrifying and torturous days after being outed. Of all those gut wrenching conversations that had peeled away every layer of self preservation he’d had. </p><p>He can feel the tension still in his body - radiating out from him - as he follows Kurt and Mercedes down the aisle towards the stage. He knows this feeling won’t go away for hours - it is the same every time he seems Az. This anxious anticipation - as if there’s something that’s been left unsaid and undone. He and Dr. Anderson talked a great deal about what would happen if he confronted Az, and although he very much would like to one day try and have a conversation, he’s far too vulnerable right now. </p><p>He throws himself down into one of the auditorium seats and watches as Mercedes disappears backstage, apparently to set up some music. Kurt sits down next to him. </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>Dave smiles and nods. “You realize that you start almost every conversation that way?”</p><p>“So? I just want to make sure that my friend isn’t upset.” </p><p>“Yeah - I’m okay. I just hate that he still has this effect on me, you know.” </p><p>“Has he ever said anything to you?”</p><p>“No. I think...I think my dad made it pretty clear that if he even came close to me, he’d be a dead man walking.” </p><p>“Yeah - your dad went on the warpath after…what happened.”</p><p>“You know, you can say suicide attempt, right? I won’t get upset.” </p><p>“I know, but I get upset.”</p><p>Dave, instantly feeling a wave of guilt over his comment, reached out and took Kurt’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t nice of me.”</p><p>“It’s okay - it’ll be a long time before I’m ready to even think about making a joke about it.” </p><p>“I know. I’m really sorry Kurt, sometimes shit like that just slips out.” </p><p>“It’s okay, Dave. Don’t stress about it, okay?” </p><p>“Okay - I’ll try.” Which they both know is a major lie. He gives Kurt a small smile, “You know, one day I hope my dad - or you - will tell me exactly what he did.”</p><p>Kurt seems to consider for a moment - his eyes distant and thoughtful. Then, he answered in a low voice. “Some of it was before I started hanging around so much. But those first days, when no one was allowed to see you, I think your dad went out of his mind. I don’t know everything he did - I know about Az and there’s what happened at your old school and I know that he lost it with your mom...well, he's done a few times. I also think he threatened a lot of the teachers here to make sure you’d be safe - but there’s a lot I don’t know.” </p><p>“I’m glad I have him - and you.” Dave noticed Mercedes watching them from the stage, he gestured with his head. “I think your duet partner wants you, I’ll be here.”</p><p>“You gonna be okay? Thank you for coming.”</p><p>“Thank you for protecting me! And yeah, I’ll be cool - I’m gonna watch you guys - judge you a little - and look up some stuff about the group tomorrow.” </p><p>“Don’t judge too harshly.”</p><p>“Do I ever judge harshly?” </p><p>“I’ve heard your Jar-Jar Binks rant, so yes, you do.” </p><p>“That’s totally different, that character is the desecration of…”</p><p>“Okay, I’m gonna go sing now, before you pull out the powerpoint.” Kurt pushed himself up with a smile, gave Dave’s hand one last squeeze before heading up to join Mercedes on stage, shaking his head and muttering about having a nerd for a friend. Dave smiled at his retreating back. </p><p>As the opening chords of an old Aretha Franklin and George Michael duet started, he pulled out his laptop and opened up a browser that was already loaded up to the page on a local LGBTQ youth group. A simple Google search had uncovered one that served Lima, through an organization called Pass, which ran a number of support groups, including one for gay youth and allies. And tomorrow, he and Kurt were going to one of their meetings. </p><p>He briefly wondered if he’d be brave enough to talk about Az at the meeting - to talk about the hurt and the longing he still felt for the boy who had been his partner in crime since they were four years old. He sometimes let himself fantasize about having Az walk into one of these meetings with him - supporting him. But he knew that was nothing but false hope - a fantasy even more outrageous than his beloved sci fi stories. </p><p>Going to one of these meetings was supposed to be good for Dave’s recovery. Dave’s psychiatrist had first posed the idea not long after Dave’s suicide attempt. Thinking that if Dave surrounded himself with people who had similar experiences and were accepting and loving, Dave might come out of his shell a little more. Of course the idea of walking into a room full of strangers and talking about himself nearly paralyzed Dave with anxiety. Even the idea of the forty minute drive to the OSU campus just outside of Lima could provoke a minor panic attack.  </p><p>Dave had mentioned the idea to his dad, who thought it was fantastic. And naturally, when Dave had done nothing to follow up on it, Paul had gone to Kurt and mentioned it. And then Kurt had made it his sole mission to get Dave to that group. So, in his naturally hyper-organized fashion, Kurt had convinced Dave to at least look at some websites...and think about it. And then he made Dave an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’d promised to go with Dave to a couple meetings at first, at least until Dave got comfortable.  </p><p>And so, Dave had agreed to go to the next meeting - tomorrow, after school. He glanced up at Kurt and Mercedes, who were killing it on this song, dancing around each other like they were born to perform like this. He opened itunes, found the song and bought it -  Kurt would be pretty pleased about that. He knew he shouldn’t freak out over the meeting - he really shouldn’t. It was just like therapy - just talking about what had happened. Talking about being gay. He did that all the time - with his dad, with Kurt, with Dr. Anderson and now with Mercedes, Tina, Rachel, Finn and Santana. This was going to be no different. </p><p>Only it was. Because it was going to be in a room full of strangers - something that made him feel like his world was tilting on its axis and he was certainly going to vomit - even the very idea that tomorrow he might have to talk in front of people, people he didn’t know - it scared him shitless. He ran his very sweaty palms over his thighs and hoped he was strong enough to do this. He just didn’t want to disappoint anyone. </p><p>*********************</p><p><br/>The building was exceptionally non-descript - all red brick, dull black metal, huge windows and bland silver lettering, informing Dave he was looking at the Student Life Building. Dave stood in front of the main doors, staring up the structure, a feeling of disquiet growing steadily in his stomach. The building itself didn’t look like it was going to hurt him - it was just a building after all - but it was everything that was going to happen inside the place that was sure to cause him harm. He shuddered involuntarily at the idea of what he was about to do. He was about to go talk about himself - to strangers. Absolute strangers. He wrung his hands painfully - wishing he was anywhere but here. </p><p>He saw Kurt come hurrying around the corner of the building, smiling his usual ultra-supportive smile. Dave was not sure it was really going to help much today - he’d been a ball of nerves ever since he woke up this morning. He tried to give a smile in return - but found himself struggling to maintain it. The strain and worry must have shown on his face, because Kurt’s expression instantly changed to one of concern - something Dave was just getting used to seeing on people’s faces. He reached out and gripped Dave’s arm, helping to ground and reassure him. </p><p>“Are you okay, Dave?”</p><p>Dave’s eyes flicked back to the building in front of him, and the disquiet started to boil over, he shook his head. “I don’t think I can do this, Kurt.” </p><p>“Talk to me, what’s going on?”</p><p>“It...it just feels like it’s too much. Having to talk to so many people all at once, I think I might throw up.” </p><p>Kurt glanced around and started pulling him towards a picnic table right next to the building, “Come on, just sit down for a second, okay.” Dave sat down heavily on the cold metal bench, grunting softly. Kurt sat next to him. “Dave - what happened? You seemed okay on the way here, what happened between the parking lot and now?”</p><p>“I don’t know, okay. I just don’t know. Maybe I was fine because you distracted me by talking about Clone Wars, but now - it feels like it’s too much. It all seems so overwhelming, and scary. I mean - I talk about what happened to everyone - you, my dad, my doctor, your dad. Hell, even Mercedes, Tina, Rachel and Finn all know about it now. But the idea of sitting in a room of total strangers - having them look at me - and having to talk about it...Kurt I’m scared.” </p><p>“So, how can we make it less scary?” </p><p>“Go home?”</p><p>Kurt sighs and Dave can hear the slight note of irritation - he immediately feels even shittier. “Dave...we had an agreement. Your dad and doctor both want you to do this. You...you need to do this.”</p><p>“I know. I know I do, Kurt. But I’m still scared.” </p><p>“And that’s okay! But what’s that thing your doctor says all the time?”</p><p>“Swim with the fear, but don’t drown in it.”</p><p>“Dave, I promise you that this will be totally okay! It’s just a bunch of queer kids like us, no one is going to do anything to you. Or say anything to you - you’ll be safe. I promise. And I’ll be right there, the whole time.” </p><p>Dave sighed and bit his lip - his eyes drawn back to the front entrance of the building. There was a rainbow flag sticker just above the door handle, and he could see a sign with the words The Q*mmunity Centre - which was where the meeting was being held. He knew it was going to be a safe space - everything he’d read about these meetings online had promised him that. He’d read the info page on their website about a dozen times, gone through dozens of Reddit pages, even found a bunch of articles from local and student newspapers. Everything had told him how awesome this group was - how supportive and helpful other people found it. Nothing bad was going to happen. </p><p>Nothing bad was going to happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. Maybe, if he just kept repeating it like a personal mantra, he could do this. </p><p>“Nothing bad is going to happen.” He whispered it softly under his breath. </p><p>“What?” Kurt leaned closer. </p><p>He looked back at Kurt. “I said, nothing bad is going to happen.” </p><p>“Right! We’ll go in, you can meet some people - if you want to talk, you can. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” </p><p>Dave nodded. “Would you make fun of me if I made a nerdy comment right now?”</p><p>“Probably.” </p><p>Dave sucked in a hard breath. He coud do this - if he could face down everything he'd gone though, if he could face down a suicide attempt and still come out standing, then he could do this. He could do it. This was nothing. He pushed himself up off the bench. “Okay, if Leia could be brave enough to rescue Han from Jabba, then I can do this. Let’s go.”</p><p>“You really can make every situation about Star Wars, can’t you.” </p><p>“It’s my superpower.” Dave huffed and marched towards the entrance, a set look on his face. </p><p>Behind his back, Kurt smiled affectionately and followed Dave into the building. </p><p>-/- </p><p>The moment Dave stepped into the room, the feeling in his stomach exploded into a torrent of angry hornets, all fighting and stinging and biting. He had to suck in a deep breath and try not to collapse onto the floor. He whimpered quietly, hoping that Kurt wouldn't hear him. He really didn’t want to disappoint his friend - or his dad. And yeah, he knew this was piss poor reason to do this - to do what his therapist said was an important step in his recovery. But it was all he had - it was the only thing giving him the strength to do it, so he was going to own it. If his perpetual fear of rejection and disappointing others was what got him moving, then so fucking be it.</p><p>He scanned the room, which was surprisingly large and had about twenty-five chairs arranged in a large circle, with more chairs in a stack next to the door. There were about ten people milling about, most of them standing by a table with a coffee maker and a large pink box of cookies. He can see one girl - with spiky purple hair and an Adventure Time backpack - sipping hesitantly at a cup of coffee, a look of mild disgust on her face. She looks up and catches his eye - he immediately wants to look away, to run and hide - she steps away from the food table and approaches him and Kurt. </p><p>Kurt gives his hand a hard squeeze and whispers, “You got this!” and then steps back, giving him space. Although it kind of feels like he’s being dumped into a swarm of sharks. The girl is smiling at him and holding out her hand. </p><p>“Hi. I’m Amber!” Her voice is quite chipper and upbeat. </p><p>He wipes his hand on his thigh, trying to get rid of the sweat, and takes her hand. “Uh, hello. I’m, er, Dave.” His voice sounds just as nervous as he feels - shaky and unsure...and completely terrified. </p><p>“Hi Dave, welcome to Pass. Is this your boyfriend?” She nodded towards Kurt. </p><p>Dave is quite sure that if someone put a piece of paper next to his face, it would catch fire. He feels insanely hot from how intensely he’s blushing. He shakes his head, perhaps a bit too emphatically, “No, uh, no. He’s my friend - Kurt! This is Kurt. He promised to come with me. Uh...is that okay?”</p><p>“Of course it is!” She leaned to the side, smiling. “Hi Kurt.” </p><p>Kurt waved hello, “Hi Amber. Nice to meet you. Dave, I’m going to get a coffee and then I’ll get us some seats, okay.” </p><p>Dave's eyes pivoted, wide with terror. Kurt was leaving his side. What was he doing?! But before he could protest, Kurt was moving away, leaving him alone with Amber. He glanced back at the girl - who was still smiling at him. He was really sweating now - it felt like there was a swimming pool being built on his lower back. He didn’t know what to do - oh god. He had no idea what to do. He licked his lips and gave a small shudder. Amber stepped closer to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. <br/> <br/>“It’s okay, Dave. Is this your first time here?”</p><p>He nodded, wondering if anyone would mind if he just lay down on the floor.</p><p>“Okay, do you want to come sit down - you can sit next to me, okay? You don’t have to be nervous and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” </p><p>He sucked in a breath and managed a very small, “Okay.” He let himself be led toward the circle of chairs, eyes slowly taking in the other people in the room. Most of them looked about his age, and maybe one or two that were older. There was a rather small red-haired kid with glasses, who looked almost as nervous as he was, sitting in one of the chairs - he glanced up at Dave and gave a very small smile, which Dave tried to return. He kind of reminded Dave of an Ewok.</p><p>“Okay, how about we sit here.” Amber’s voice was gentle and reassuring. “I just want to talk to someone for a second, you’ll be okay?” </p><p>He nodded. No! He would <em>not</em> be okay!</p><p>As Dave sat down in one of the chairs, he watched as another guy came up to Amber - this guy was husky with almost coal black hair. It looked like he was about Dave’s age, although the dark stubble on his chin made him look much older. He was wearing this midnight blue bomber jacket that hugged his broad frame exceptionally well. The guy, perhaps sensing that Dave was looking at him, turned to return Dave’s gaze and smiled warmly before turning back to Amber. Dave was a bit surprised at the spike of attraction that pushed his anxiety aside for a moment. Then, he noticed more people were taking seats in the circle and the attraction vanished, only to be replaced with an even stronger sense of terror. </p><p>Kurt slipped into the chair next to him, holding out a bottle of water. “Hey. I brought you a bottle of water - thought you might need some. Are you doing okay?”  </p><p>Dave took the water and drank almost half of it in one go. He turned to look at Kurt. “I legitimately feel like I might throw up.” </p><p>“I know it feels scary, but it’s not. Once it gets going, I promise you it will be okay.” </p><p>“I feel so lame being this scared about being in a group of people.” </p><p>“Dave - we both know it’s not lame But this is going to help, and everyone seems really nice.”</p><p>Dave sighed softly and stared down at his bottle of water. God, he’d give anything to be in his living room right now - where he felt safe - just watching a movie or doing literally anything else. Nothing about this felt safe. </p><p>He felt Amber sit down next to him, she put her hand on his knee. “Okay, so we’re about to get started. Remember you don’t have to say anything or do anything that makes you even the tiniest bit uncomfortable - but we do always go around the circle and say our names. I bet everyone would love to hear yours.” </p><p>Dave had to literally grip the chair to stop himself from bolting out of the room. He closed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll try…” He felt Amber give his knee a pat. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the black haired guy was sitting next to Ewok kid and seemed to be giving him just as much reassurance as Amber was giving him. When the Ewok kid looked up, looking right at him, Dave forced himself to lift his hand up and wave hello, which was hesitatingly returned. </p><p>And then, Amber started talking - “Okay, guys, I think we’re going to get started. My name is Amber, I’m one of the group facilitators and welcome to Pass’ LGBTQ Youth Group. Before we start going around the circle and introduce ourselves, I’d just like to remind everyone - this is a safe space. Any homophobic or violent or bigoted language or actions, and you’ll be asked to leave. I know there are a couple new people here today, so remember, while the group works best if we all share, you don’t have to share - you can just sit and listen and think. But always remember, we are here for each other - we celebrate each other and we help each other, and we’ll never put each other down. Everyone okay with that?”</p><p>There was a small murmur of agreement. Dave was barely able to nod his head - he kept thinking about having to say his name. He’d have to say something out loud - even just his name, it felt insurmountable. But he had to, he had to do this. </p><p>“Okay, so, let’s get the introductions going! I’m Amber, I’m a first year here at OSU, and I’ve been with Pass for about four years now - I used to come to these meetings just so I could find a place where I belonged, but now, this is kinda where all my friends are, and I want to make sure everyone feels as welcome as I did. Why don’t we go counter clockwise - remember you can just say your name, or you can also say something about you.” </p><p>Dave couldn’t tell if he was relieved that he’d be going last or worse that he was going last. As he sat there, listening to a litany of names - John, Sandra, Riley, Cobb…-  he just kept repeating his own name in his head. He just had to say, I’m Dave. That was all - he’s said his name probably a dozen times today alone. This was no different. </p><p>He felt a pair of eyes boring into him and looked up to find Ewok kid staring at him - he looked like he was going to pass out. Dave realized the kid was up next, he nodded at him. If this kid could do it, Dave knew he’d be able to. The girl - Carla - next to Ewok finished and there was this silence that settled over the room. The black haired guy gave Ewok’s knee a squeeze. The kid closed his eyes and then in a voice that Dave had to strain to hear, “I’m Kevin. I go to Lima Senior. This is my first meeting.” As he finished speaking, he looked emotionally exhausted, like the very act of pushing out those words had totally done him in. He sagged back against the chair, a small smile forming on his lips. </p><p>The black haired guy spoke next, “Hey - I’m Steve. I’m the other co-facilitator, I also go to Lima Senior. I started coming last year - I’d never heard of this group, but after I almost ran away from home, my therapist decided it would be good for me. This place has helped me in more ways than I can even tell you. I’m really glad you’re all here.” </p><p>As Steve finished speaking, Dave quickly counted - three people left. Okay, he thought, just remember - I’m Dave. You don’t have to say anything else, just I’m Dave. Suddenly he heard Kurt talking - “Hi! I’m Kurt, I go to McKinley High. This is my first meeting, actually! I kinda wish I’d known about this sooner. I’m really glad to be here.” </p><p>Dave knew he was up - he heard the group fall quiet. His eyes snapped up, hoping his Ewok buddy - Kevin - would give him some moral support. But it was Steve who was staring right at him - he gave Dave two thumbs up and winked. Dave sucked in a small breath - just say your name. Just say your...  </p><p>“Hi. Uh….I’m Dave. I go to McKinley, I used to go to Carmel, but I had to transfer because I was gay bashed… I really wish I’d known about this group before. But yeah, this is my first time, so, er, be gentle.” </p><p>He heard a soft snort of laughter from Kurt next to him. </p><p>Then the shock of what had just happened settled over him. What the fuck had just happened? He had certainly said his name. In fact, he had done a lot more than just say his name. He’d never expected to actually...say something. Say anything. But he’d...he’d let himself open up. Holy fuck. </p><p>He felt Kurt’s hand rubbing his knee and the quiet whisper of “Good job Dave.” And it was true. He’d done a good job. He’d done an awesome job. He felt like crying suddenly - a big hard messy cry. He had done the one thing that terrified him the most - he’d talked about what had happened, even the tiniest bit of it, with strangers. He closed his eyes, and let a few tears fall. </p><p>And all at once, that hurricane of terror was degraded to a dull roar. </p><p>Dave tried to pay attention to the rest of the meeting - but he was still kind of reliving the fact that he’d been strong enough to do this - he’d let strangers in. He couldn’t wait to tell his dad and Dr. Anderson. He felt so overwhelmed - all of this was just so incredible and he felt so incredible. </p><p>He forced himself to try and pay attention while people were talking - but even that was overwhelming. He tried to focus on Kurt’s voice, when he talked about the bullying - actually, no, Dave decided not to listen to that. He couldn’t handle the guilt that still rose unbidden everytime Kurt even mentioned being bullied - and it rose every single time. Even if Kurt told him to stop beating himself up over it. He tried to listen to Amber’s story - hearing a little bit about her fear of her father’s Conservative beliefs. He decided that next week he’d try to talk a little bit about his own issues with his mom’s beliefs. </p><p>And he tried to focus on Steve, when he talked about how afraid he’d been of his own sexuality and the reaction of his parents, so he’d tried to run away last year - ending up sleeping in his car on the outskirts of Cincinnati. </p><p>Kevin stayed silent. </p><p>But almost every kid seemed to have a story that Dave could understand. That he could see himself in. Fear of rejection. Fear of hate. Fear of recrimination. Fear of pain and anger and sadness and abandonment. All these fears. All this hurt. </p><p>Fuck. It made his heart hurt. </p><p>He wanted something to say something nice. He wanted to hear something other than hurt and hate and fear. </p><p>Finally, just before the meeting was over, Steve put up his hand. “Okay, guys, so it’s been a little doom and gloom in here today - I think we need to try and end on a cheerful note. Does anyone want to say something they love about their lives right at this very moment?”</p><p>There was silence for a second, and Dave briefly wondered if he’d have the strength to actually speak up - maybe tell them how important Kurt was to him. But it was Amber who broke the silence, talking about her dog and her girlfriend. Dave smiled and let himself relax in the chair - the moment had passed. Instead, he reached out and took Kurt’s hand, giving it a squeeze of thanks.  “Thank you, Kurt.” he whispered.</p><p>As the meeting wrapped up, Kurt turned to Dave. “I’m so proud of you.” </p><p>“Thanks. I..uh...I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I talked - and didn’t vomit.” Dave felt almost unable to move his head.</p><p>Kurt laughed softly “You were amazing! Do you want to get ready to go?”</p><p>“Can I just sit here for a minute? I’m still feeling a little overwhelmed.” Dave glanced at Kurt, he wasn’t entirely sure he could stand up yet. He just wanted to sit. </p><p>“Sure. I want to go say thank you to Amber.” Kurt got up and walked over to where the pink haired girl was insisting people take extra cookies. </p><p>Dave sat back on his chair and let out a massive breath - he felt like he’d been holding it in for hours now. Ever since they’d left McKinley, it had been building and building - but he’d done it. He’d come to a support group and he’d opened up. Sure, it was barely a scratch on the surface of everything that he would eventually need to tell them, but it was something. It was more than just his name.</p><p>There was a soft cough from above him. He looked up to see Kevin and Steve standing there, Kevin looked as nervous as he had throughout the entire meeting, but he offered a wavering smile. “Hi. Thanks for - uh - giving me some silent support during the whole introduction thing. I’m glad you came and I’m sorry you got - uh - bashed.” The guy went beet red and shrunk into himself. </p><p>Dave smiled back. “Thank you. And I’m glad you were here too. I was super nervous.” </p><p>“Me too. Uh, will you be back next week?”</p><p>“Yeah. I plan to. You?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Kevin nodded and then glanced at Steve, and in a breathless rush, said, “I’m gonna go use the bathroom before we go. It was really nice to meet you Dave. Bye.” He turned and hurried away, leaving Steve and Dave alone. </p><p>Steve pointed to the chair Amber had been sitting in - “Mind if I sit?” </p><p>“Uh...no, guess not.” As Steve sat down, Dave quickly checked him out. He was incredibly attractive - he looked much older than a senior in high school, with his deep black hair and stubble beard. But now that he was closer, Dave could see he had almost slate grey eyes that seemed bright and cheerful. His mouth was cured up in a smile as he settled down next to Dave, pivoting so they were facing each other. </p><p>Steve’s voice was low and deep, “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I know your first time can be a lot - but I thought you did great!” </p><p>“Uh, I um, I think I’m okay. Still a little overwhelmed, but I’m okay. Probably gonna have to cry about all this when I get home.” </p><p>“Yeah, the first time I came to a group, I had to pull over on my way home and I cried for like forty minutes.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll probably make my friend pull over for me.” </p><p>“Kurt, right? He seems nice. You guys...uh…”</p><p>“He’s my best friend.” </p><p>“Cool. Uh, okay, this is probably all kinds of inappropriate, but can I give you my number? Or you can give me yours. But I’d like to maybe hang out, if you’d feel comfortable.”</p><p>“Uh…sure, I guess.” Dave’s first inclination was to ask why - did group facilitators often do after hours work with group members or something. Dave glanced around the room, he saw Kurt watching him from the coffee station, an odd look on his face. Okay, no help there. Dave looked back at Steve - the guy looked so earnest and happy, smiling at Dave in a way that Dave hadn’t ever been smiled at before. It was almost like...he was...he was attracted to Dave. Oh.</p><p>Oh!</p><p>Almost as soon as he realized what was going on, Dave’s back broke out in a cold sweat again. He had no idea what to do. Should he say yes? Should he smile? Should he ask Steve about...something? He was asking for Dave’s number so they could...go out on a date…? He blinked in surprise and slightly gaped at Steve. </p><p>He also had not said anything in an exceptionally long time! </p><p>Steve laughed and leaned forward, putting his hands on Dave’s legs - they felt heavy and warm and really really nice. “You’ve never been asked out before, have you?” </p><p>Fuck! Oh! He was being asked out on a date! A guy - a cute guy - was interested in him and was asking him out! This had been a very very overwhelming day. Slowly he nodded and worked his mouth - praying something would come out. “Uh...no, I haven’t. I’ve only been out for a few months.” And his luck asking guys out...well, he wasn’t winning any MVPs trophies in that category.</p><p>“Well, we can talk on the phone or something first, if that would make you feel more comfortable.”</p><p>“Uh, okay. I’m pretty shy, just so you know. The stuff that’s happened to me - it makes it a little hard for me to be social. So I might be a bit weird at first.” What was happening? He was talking to a guy - using full sentences. He wasn’t running away. This was so weird. </p><p>“That’s okay - we’ll go at whatever pace you want. I just would like to get to know you.” Steve’s head shifted to look towards the door, he nodded. “It looks like Kev is ready to go. Can I have your phone, I can send myself a text and we can chat?”</p><p>“Uh, sure.” Dave pulled his phone out, unlocked it and handed it to Steve. He watched as Steve sat with it for a few minutes, typing away - Steve looked up, gave him a smile and handed it back. </p><p>“There. I added myself as a contact and sent myself a message - can I text you tonight?” </p><p>Dave considered for a moment, he was supposed to talk to Tina about their algebra homework and talk to his dad about schools...so he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.” </p><p>“Cool.” Steve gave Dave’s legs a small squeeze, which Dave liked more than he cared to admit, and then stood up. “I’m glad you came to the group, Dave. I’ll text you tonight and regardless, I’ll see you next week. Bye Dave.” And with that he was gone. </p><p>Dave sat there for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. He’d come to a support group. He’d actually shared something with the group. And then a guy had asked him out. He wondered if he could maybe get an appointment with Dr. Anderson soon...like maybe tonight soon - especially since he knew everything from today was bound to come out in a flood of tears sooner or later.</p><p>He pushed himself up and turned to look for Kurt, who was standing at the door - he raised his hand and made his way towards his friend, waving at Amber as he went past. As he walked up to Kurt, he smiled, shakily. “You are never going to guess what just happened to me.” </p><p>“No. I probably won’t.” Kurt’s voice sounded strange - a bit forced and almost upset. </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah - I’m just really proud of you for today, Dave. This was such a huge step.” </p><p>“Thanks Kurt. I feel like I just keep thanking you - I’m feeling a bit overcome.  So, uh, can we go now - I think I’m ready to go home.” In fact, Dave could definitely feel the familiar tug of a cry coming on. He could feel the emotions of the afternoon simmering beneath the surface and those tears were going to come a lot sooner than he really wanted. “I think I might need a big hug very soon…”</p><p>“Sure. I packed an extra box of tissues. Let’s go.” Kurt reached out and offered his hand to Dave, which Dave took gratefully as the tears were already starting to fall - hot and fat. He let himself be tugged down the hallway, walking quickly next to his silent friend.   </p><p>As they walked across the parking lot, Dave was lost in the myriad of emotions and sensations this afternoon had brought with it, reassured in the silent and empathetic figure of his best friend next to him. Unfortunately, he had no idea that Kurt was battling his own uncomfortable emotional war - the ever increasing sense of jealousy he’d felt the moment he had watched another guy put his hands on Dave’s legs. </p><p>A jealousy that he - as a very not single man - should not be feeling. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title taken from: Believer by Imagine Dragons (https://youtu.be/7wtfhZwyrcc)</p><p>Pass is a real organization - you can find more information about them here: https://www.passaah.org/about</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Don’t give up so soon on me / I’ll be better soon…</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning - homophobic language, discussion of conversion therapy, mentions of suicide</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dave really loves Saturday afternoons - he always has. They’ve always been the most restful day of his week - the day when he can just push aside homework or chores and just spend a few hours doing whatever the hell he wants. It’s always been something he and his dad share - that on Saturday afternoons, they lounge around the house, doing whatever. Usually, it’s him reading, playing video games, or watching a movie, while his dad either works in the garden, reads or does one of the hundreds of crossword puzzles that seem to just appear around the house. </p><p>And today is no different. Today, Dave is letting himself be extremely lazy. He’s stretched out on his bed, still wearing his pajamas with music playing in the background. He stretches his arms up above his head, feeling instantly uncomfortable at the way his shirt rides up on his sizable stomach. He sighs and glances at the clock - one o’clock. Good - he has plenty of time before he needs to shower and get ready to hang out with Kurt. </p><p>Kurt is supposed to be here around four or five. They’re going to order dinner in - Dave’s choice this time, so Chinese - and hang out for the evening with a couple movies. Until then, Dave’s spending his day with his collection of Star Wars graphic novels and a small stack of brand new comics, while Kurt’s spending the day with Blaine.  </p><p>Dave sighs at the idea of Kurt’s boyfriend - a topic that Kurt almost never brings up around Dave, probably in an effort to not hurt Dave. But Dave almost wishes Kurt would talk about Blaine more - it would help distract him from his own feelings for Kurt. Dave knows fully well that his feelings towards Kurt haven't really gone away. He cares for Kurt - deeply. And he’s happy being friends with Kurt...in fact, he’s overjoyed to have Kurt be his best friend. That feels like a gift that he never thought he would get. It feels like someone out there tossed him a life preserver, which he clings to so tightly. But even so, every once in a while, he can’t help but look at Kurt and wonder what it would be like to shift what they have beyond being best friends. What it would be like to kiss him freely, like Blaine can. </p><p>And it’s not as if he and Kurt aren’t already extremely affectionate - they hold hands almost constantly, they spend hours hugging each other, and they cuddle almost constantly when they can - which is quite often. All of it just seemed to just happen organically - from the moment Dave had gotten home from the hospital, they had started cuddling. Right away, his desperation for physical connection had driven them to be close. He spent quite a bit of time with his head in Kurt’s lap, especially during the initial bout of antidepressants when he could only feel numb and wanted to lie on the couch or sleep.  </p><p>Kurt had sat with him, talking to him, holding him. Telling him it would be ok. He never asked questions. He never complained. He would just sit there quietly with Dave. And if Dave started to cry, he would gently wipe his face and promise him it would get better. </p><p>They got so used to that position, that even now if they’re watching a movie, Dave’s head would inevitably wind up in Kurt’s lap. Unless Blaine was around, of course, then they sat on opposite ends of the couch. But Dave had noticed how rarely Blaine actually was around these days. Which caused Dave to sometimes wonder exactly how Kurt felt towards him - not that he actually harbored any hope. And they never spoke about it, of course, but the amount of physical affection was at times overwhelming and could be slightly confusing. But, in an effort akin to self preservation, Dave had put all those feelings in a box, wrapped it in chains, and thrown it in the deepest darkest part of his brain.  </p><p>At times, he also couldn’t help but think about what Kurt and Blaine said about him. Or even if he was a topic of conversation? Of course he was. Kurt spent almost 80 percent of his free time with Dave, so it would be quite confusing if Dave didn’t come up once in a while. Dave still didn’t really know what Blaine thought of him, though. That one had never come up between them.  </p><p>Dave wondered momentarily if he should text Kurt to invite Blaine along to hang out with them tonight. Would Blaine even want to? Or would Blaine balk at the idea. He decided to dismiss the idea entirely - he didn’t really feel like fighting through his shyness or awkwardness tonight, he just wanted to relax with Kurt. And if Kurt wanted to bring Blaine, he would say so. </p><p>As Dave started re-reading the Star Wars: Tales of the Jedi for like the fifteenth time, his phone dinged with a text message - Steve. One of the other big question marks in his life right now. It had been two weeks since his first Pass meeting - two weeks since he’d met this exceptionally interesting boy. </p><p>He unlocked his phone and tapped on the message - <em>Hey! How’s your Saturday? I’m helping my sister paint her room.</em></p><p>Dave smiles - he can’t help it. As unsure as he is about what to do about Steve, it feels good to have someone interested in him like this. Even though they still haven’t hung out outside the group, mostly because Dave is hesitant to do so, Steve’s interest hasn’t diminished in the slightest. They exchange hundreds of text messages a day - almost as many as he and Kurt do. Steve sends him funny texts, silly texts, serious texts, check-in texts and flirty texts. These last ones, well Dave has yet to really send any back - he’s absolute shit at flirting, finding it deeply anxiety producing.</p><p>He writes back, not entirely upset at the disruption to his lazy Saturday. <em>Hey! I’m being really lazy today - still in my pajamas. How is the painting going? </em></p><p>He kinda wonders what Kurt would say if he asked Steve to join them tonight. The two seemed to get along really well - at least when they chat at Pass, but Kurt also gets very quiet and reserved whenever Steve is around. Which is something Dave thinks he probably should ask Kurt about. </p><p>His phone dings again - <em>She says that since I’m gay I should be a better painter. Did I miss that training session?  And I bet you have really cute pjs.</em></p><p>Shit. He’s being flirty again. Dave hates replying to these texts - he has no idea how to flirt back. He’s asked Kurt for help, but Kurt had acted so weird and awkward, he’d kinda just dropped it. Dave glances down at his pajama pants - they are covered in the Star Wars logo. He sighs and decides to just be honest - <em>I guess we both skipped gay painting day! And they’re Star Wars pajamas, so more nerdy than cute. </em></p><p>So far, Steve has been really respectful of Dave’s hesitations and worries about dating - he’d listened quietly and respectfully as Dave told him everything that had happened, promising that Dave could set whatever pace he wanted. And it wasn’t as if Dave didn’t want to go on a date - or be affectionate - he just wasn’t sure how to move past his fears and anxieties. Steve was outside the sacred circle - which was what Kurt called it - of Kurt, his dad, Burt, Dr. Anderson and the glee kids. And so, Dave’s anxieties strongly prevented him from doing anything more than texting. </p><p>
  <em>See! That’s cute! I love how big of a nerd you are. I hope we can watch Star Wars together one day.</em>
</p><p>Dave groans quietly - he has no idea how to even begin approaching the idea of going on a date - much less a movie at home date - with another boy. That kind of thing leads to holding hands, touching, and inevitably kissing. And he wants that - god he wants it! He wants someone to look at him the way Blaine looks at Kurt. He wants someone that makes him feel special and loved. He just has no idea to get from point A to point B in this kind of situation. He also really doesn’t want this kind of situation to be as stressful as it feels - shouldn’t these kinds of things be easy. Shouldn’t they be run of the mill for a teenager? </p><p>He sighs and writes back, carefully considering his words - trying hard to maybe achieve a flirty tone. <em>Well, I guess I’m just a big cute nerd. </em></p><p>There - that's flirty, right? It’s cute - he’s flirty and cute. It also completely ignores the idea of them having an in person date, but Steve is probably used to that by now. He drops the phone onto the bed, and pushes himself up onto his elbows - determined to get back to his relaxing day. He reaches over to his computer and switches away from the depressing Death Cab song - suddenly David Bowie pumps out of his tiny computer speakers.  </p><p>He grabs his can of caffeine-free Coke, glancing over at the door to his closet. He feels a small shiver going up his spine. Sometimes he really wishes he'd taken up his dad’s offer to move him to a different room, but despite the connotations, he still loves his attic room and it’s been almost four months now, eventually those gross memories will fade, right? He pushes the dark thought away and swallows a mouthful of the Coke.  </p><p>He hears another text come in, but as he’s about to pick up his phone, there’s a soft knock at his door. Dave looked up to see his dad standing in the doorway - face set in a deep frown. </p><p>“Hey kid. How’s it going?”</p><p>“Good...” Dave could instantly tell that something was up.    </p><p>“You got a second? I need...uh, need to talk to you.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Dave shifted further up on his bed, so he was sitting against the headboard. He closed his book and dropped it on the bedside table and watched as his dad slowly made his way over to the bed. Paul, as always,  looked like he was moving so not to disturb anything in his path. He sat down heavily on the mattress and twisted his body so he was looking at Dave. He picked up Dave’s latest issue of Batman and flipped through the pages.</p><p>“I remember when you were five and you were so excited to dress up as Batman for Halloween that you refused to wear anything but your costume for like a week.”</p><p>“I was a weird kid - still am I guess.”</p><p>“Yeah, but you're my weird kid.” Paul’s head suddenly flopped forward and tears came to his eyes.  </p><p>“Dad? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”</p><p>Paul sits there for a moment - he lets out a deep sigh. He can tell that Dave is watching him with fear written across his face. He knows what he has to tell Dave is going to break his heart - a heart that he’s not entirely certain can handle being broken much more. He’s not sure he should be doing this - he should just hug his son and then wait until they see Dave’s therapist this week. But...he needs to tell his son how much he loves him. “I love you David. I love you so much. And I want you to know that I don’t give a fuck about who you love or who you spend your life with. And any God I might or might not believe in, well he doesn’t give a fuck about it either, or else I wouldn’t believe in him. And the idea that I almost lost you...almost...because of some bullshit crap about not being good enough or not being normal...god! You are normal and you are perfect because you are my son!”</p><p>Paul took off his glasses and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes as they welled with more tears. God, he hated her.  </p><p>Dave shifted again, so he was kneeling next to his dad.  “Dad, is this about mom?”</p><p>“Dave...I...I don’t know how to tell you this. I shouldn’t - I should wait until we see Dr. Anderson or something.”</p><p>“Dad...” Dave’s voice cracked, hard.  “Just..just fucking tell me.”</p><p>“Your mom called. She told me that either she and I discuss sending you to one of those camps...or she wants nothing to do with either of us again. She...she...she said, her love for Jesus is stronger than her love for... Fuck!” Paul was so tired of this - so tired of fighting. And everytime he thought he’d finally made an inroad to ensuring Dave’s safety, something more happened. And that woman...the one woman he thought he’d love for the rest of his life - she just kept disappointing him. </p><p>The weight of it. The sheer and utter weight of it all. He couldn’t keep doing it all alone - he felt like he was fighting the fucking world to protect his son. He felt like he just kept fighting this uphill battle that was never ending. The ignorant school officials, the bigoted parents, the hateful and narrowminded ex-wife, the dentist whose values conflicted with Dave’s “lifestyle”, those pathetic little shits at Dave’s old school - all of them. Paul had been taking them all on for so long and he was nearing his breaking point. But he refused to stop - he wasn’t going to stop until he got Dave out of this god-forsaken place. Until he knew Dave was safe. </p><p>But right now, sitting on his son’s bed, with the words of his ex-wife still ringing his ears - disownment - that weight is unbearable and he lets himself break a little. He sags towards his son, a violent torrent of sobs retching from his throat.  </p><p>Dave watches, silently stunned, as he father completely loses composure. He’s seen his dad fall apart only a handful of times. Once had been when Dave had broken his leg in grade five - it had snapped in two and his dad had totally freaked out. Another, when his mom had canceled a romantic getaway so she could go on a church retreat. Another, on the day his mom finally left - leaving behind an envelope with divoice papers on the dining room table. On that day, Dave had genuinely been afraid for his father. And the final time was when he’d woken up in his dad’s arms after having been pulled down from where he’d tried to hang himself. He remembered opening his eyes and being totally confused, seeing his dad screaming for help and sobbing.  He remembered hearing his dad scream his name over and over and over again. He remembered whispering his dad’s name...and the way his dad had gathered him to his chest, promising over and over again that he’d be ok.  </p><p>And now, this - his father, weeping so hard it sounded like his entire world was breaking in two. He needed to know what was happening - what had his mom done? It was clearly another threat about conversion therapy - but Dave and his dad were pretty used to those by now. And...his dad had said that she wanted nothing to do with them - but wasn’t that fucking obvious by now.  He fully knew that his suicide attempt and his coming out would certainly be something that she would never be able to get past. Not only had Dave pretty much spat in the face of his mother’s God by trying to take his own life, but the very idea that her son could be a homosexual...it was enough to completely alienate Dave from his mother.</p><p>And the fact that his dad had chosen to stand with Dave instead of his mother..Dave knew that his father was as good as dead to his ex-wife. He pulled his dad into a hug as his own tears started to fall, but he had to try and be strong - just a little. “Dad?” </p><p>His dad tried to compose himself. He nodded. </p><p>“What did mom say?” </p><p>His dad’s face crumbled again, and he pressed his face into his son’s shoulder - sobbing harder than he ever thought was possible. And through his dad’s tears, Dave distinctly heard, “...disownment...single custody...bitch...” </p><p>Dave’s heart stopped - it had finally happened. His mom had completely rejected him. She had finally walked away from her only son. His mother...a woman who was supposed to love and support him...wanted to divorce herself from him. Something that was inevitable - something that had started almost three months earlier - had finally come to fruition. Three months earlier, Dave had been confronted, and almost abducted, by his mom and her church group - a moment that he had only survived because of the steadfast strength of his friend and the hard anger of his father.  But now...now he knew...he didn’t have a mom anymore.</p><p>The wail that erupted from Dave’s mouth was loud enough to stir the gods. And Paul Karofsky held his son like their lives depended on it. Because right now, Dave was really all that he did have in the world.</p><p>********************</p><p><br/>{Two and a Half Months Earlier} </p><p>“Thanks for driving me today, Kurt.” Dave glances over at his friend from the passenger seat in Kurt’s SUV. “My dad wanted to, but he really hates missing his PFLAG meetings.” They were driving back to Dave’s place after his regular Thursday therapy appointment and if Dave was being completely honest, he was really happy it was Kurt sitting next to him. His dad had a really bad tendency to encourage Dave to tell him everything that happened in his session with Dr. Anderson, which sometimes felt even more emotionally exhausting than the actual therapy sessions themselves. But Kurt just always seemed to instinctively know when to back off and just let Dave talk about anything else, or not talk at all.  </p><p>Kurt smiled, his eyes never leaving the road. “He’s really taking it seriously, huh?”</p><p>“Oh god! You have no idea. He’s determined to become some kind of expert on having a gay son or something.” </p><p>“He just really loves you, Dave.” </p><p>“I’m not complaining! It makes me really happy. He told me he asked you for a list of gay movies. Apparently we’re starting with Brokeback Mountain this week.”</p><p>“Maybe have something funny lined up to watch right after…”</p><p>“I know - I’ve seen it.” </p><p>“You have? When?”</p><p>“Last year, over the summer, I was trying to...educate myself. I spent a lot of time crying in my room or just being angry in my room or just hating life in my room…”</p><p>“God, Dave…”</p><p>“It’s okay, Kurt. I’m getting past it all, remember. I’m trying not to wallow in my misery anymore.” </p><p>“Right! So, what else do you have planned this afternoon?”</p><p>Dave shrugged. “Not a whole lot - I get pretty tired after therapy, and I’m still a little loopy from the Zoloft, so I might just zone out on the couch. My dad is probably already home and making dinner - I’ll convince him to let me eat in front of the tv.” </p><p>“Want some company?”</p><p>“You sure? No glee rehearsal or anything?”</p><p>“Nah. Plus, dad and Carole were talking about going out for dinner, and Finn might be over at Rachel’s. So, I’d rather not spend the whole night alone.” </p><p>“No Blaine?”</p><p>“He has homework or something.”</p><p>“Then, yes, I would love to zone out with you on the couch. Plus, dad said he was making that pasta thing you like.” Dave gave a small smile - secretly he was extremely relieved at the thought of just hanging out with Kurt for a while. He always wanted to ask Kurt to spend some time together after a therapy session, but felt guilty every time - worried that he was taking up too much of his friend’s time. So this, a happy coincidence, felt amazing. </p><p>As they turned onto Dave’s street and his house came into sight, Dave frowned slightly. “Who’s at my house?” He pointed at a black sedan that was parked in his driveway. As he did, Kurt slammed on the brakes, jolting both of them forward. Dave turned in his seat. “Kurt? What’s wrong?” </p><p>Kurt didn’t reply, he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and started texting furiously, his brow furrowed, with an angry set look on his face. Dave could feel himself breaking out in a sweat - something bad was happening. He glanced back at his house and his whole body went ice cold. His mother was standing in the driveway, staring at Kurt’s car. </p><p>Dave’s insides twisted - his stomach felt as nauseous as it had when he’d been switched onto those other antidepressants. He could hear his breaths coming in little gulps, like he was trying to suck in too much air - which probably meant he’d start hyperventilating soon. He watched as a strange man got out of the black car and came to stand next to his mother - Dave had no idea who he was. He’d never seen him before, perhaps he was some guy from his mom’s church group. Or something. They started walking towards Kurt’s car. </p><p>“I’m getting us out of here.” Kurt’s voice is strained and angry. “We’re going to my house, right now.” Kurt put the car in drive, but before he’s able to move the man is grabbing hold of the passenger door handle and yanking on it. He’s smiling through the window - this large fake smile that makes Dave’s skin crawl. </p><p>“Open the door son.” His voice is calm and gentle, but authoritative. And for an instant, Dave almost reaches out to open the door, but stops himself when he sees his mother’s face. She’s looking at him with...pity. Like he’s a problem that she wants to solve. And he knows exactly what’s happening. </p><p>If he gets out of Kurt’s car, he’s going to be dragged into that black sedan and he’ll probably never see Kurt or his dad again. He’ll disappear to some reprogramming camp - complete with chemical castration, corporal punishment, corrective rape or whatever pray the gay away nonsense his mother belives. He turns his head away, hot tears flowing down his cheeks. The guy is yanking harder on the handle, yelling now.  </p><p>Then, he hears his mother’s voice through the window - it’s as floral and angelic as it’s always been. “Davey, please. I just want to help you. We can help you get cured.” He just squeezes his eyes closed even harder and tries to block them out. He starts replaying his favorite Star Wars scenes in his head - Vader and Luke fighting on the Death Star, Leia and Han on Endor, Luke destroying the Death Star, Cloud City - anything to block out his mother’s voice. Anything to stop this from happening. </p><p>He’s crying harder now - huge gulping sobs that sound like insane versions of hiccups. And he can hear the guy - creepy fake smile guy - yanking on the door handle, his voice rising in pitch demanding that Dave open the door and come with them. He’s sure his mom is saying something else, but he’s increased the volume of the movie playback in his head. But then there’s a new sound, the sound of a car door opening - his eyes snap open. Kurt was getting out of the car. </p><p>“Get away from my car, now!” He watched as Kurt stood up on the running board of the SUV and glared at the man standing next to Dave’s door. “I will happily call the police if you don’t get your hands off my car, right now.”</p><p>“Young man, this does not concern you - it concerns David, his mother and God.” </p><p>“God can go fuck himself.” Kurt’s voice was as cold and angry as it was on that day last year in the locker room. “Dave is going nowhere with you. Now get away from my car, or I will start driving whether you’re holding onto it or not.” </p><p>Dave actually let himself glance in the direction of the man at his window, and the flush of anger that comes over the man’s face was perhaps the most gratifying thing in the world. He looked at his mother’s face - she’s ignoring Kurt and creepy smile guy, she’s just looking right at Dave. Her face was a mask of sadness and set determination. He stares right back at her. </p><p>She steps forward, tears brimming in her eyes - he’s not sure if they’re real or not, but they’re there. “Please, David. Let me help you.” </p><p>As he opens his mouth, although he is quite unsure of exactly what he’s going to say, he sees his dad’s car pull to a halt next to Kurt’s SUV. The door flings open and his dad - or at least a version of his dad flies out of the car. </p><p>Paul Karofsky is angry - he is more angry than Dave has ever seen him. He barely looks like himself, he’s hulking and seething and brimming with a rage that pulls hard at Dave’s heart. He moves so fast that Dave, for a moment, can see exactly why he’d once been a college football superstar - it’s graceful and brutal and beautiful. </p><p>Paul grabs the fake smile guy and, with a roar, literally throws him away from the car - the man actually is airborne for a moment. Paul moves in front of the passenger door, ready to protect his son with his life. “Get the fuck away from my son, you inbred piece of shit!” The man lands on the pavement and scrambles away from the towering wall of fury bearing down on him. Dave hears his mom yell, “Paul!”</p><p>“Jesus.” Dave hears Kurt whisper softly. </p><p>Dave undoes his seat belt and starts to get out of the car, he won’t let his dad face this alone. He might be damaged and severely fucked up in the head, but he won’t let anyone hurt his dad. </p><p>“Get back in the car, Dave.” His dad’s voice is so angry that Dave actually falters as he steps onto the pavement. “I want you both to get in the car and go to Kurt’s house. Right now. I’ll be there soon.” </p><p>Dave stands there, half in and half out of the car. He looks at the back of his dad’s neck - it is bright red, as if his anger is spreading across his entire body. He looks up and sees that his mother is kneeling next to creepy smile guy, she’s looking up at her ex-husband with a look of horror on her face. </p><p>“Dave…” Kurt’s voice is gentle, pleading. “Come on - get back in the car.” Dave shakes his head. </p><p>“Dad - I don’t want to leave you.”</p><p>Paul looks back at him - his anger is coming off him in waves, but his eyes are soft and gentle, exactly the way they always are when he looks at Dave. He nods at the car, “Go kid, I’ll be fine. I promise…” His voice drops to a whisper that only Dave can hear. “I got this, okay? Go - I’ll be there soon and we can have dinner with Kurt’s family. I love you.” </p><p>Dave stares at his dad’s face, then he nods and slowly he gets back in the car. As he’s closing the door, he hears his mom’s voice, “Paul, please we can still…” Then the door is closed, and Kurt is throwing the car into reverse. He watches through the windshield as his dad starts gesturing at the black sedan, while screaming at his mother and the creepy smile guy. The fear he has for his dad is so immense that it’s like he might drown in it. As the car turns the corner, and the horrifying scene in front of his house disappears, Dave sags forward, his hands clutching his head, and he sobs. His cries are so loud that Kurt feels a greater fear for his friend than he’s ever felt. </p><p>-/- </p><p>Dave is perched on the Hummel’s couch, twisting his hands together, while tears continue to run down his cheeks. He hasn’t been able to stop crying since they’d left his dad behind. He keeps glancing over at the front door, willing it to open and have his father walk into the room. Kurt is sitting next to him, rubbing circles into his back, and he can see Finn hovering by the kitchen door - anxiously watching - clearly unsure what he should do. </p><p>Carole walks into the room, carrying a glass of water. She kneels in front of Dave, grabbing one of his hands and pressing the glass into it. “Dave, I want you to drink this okay? You need to.” </p><p>Dave looks at her, his eyes wild and terrified. “Where’s my dad?” </p><p>Carole frowns and shakes her head. “Burt went to get him, honey. They’ll be here soon, I’m sure. Please just drink some water - it’ll help you calm down.” </p><p>Dave nods and takes a small sip of water - it feels amazing the moment it hits his parched throat. He shudders slightly. He closes his eyes, but all he can see is the face of his mother with that look of determination, as if she wants to try and rip the gay out of him. He just wants his dad. </p><p>How could she do this? How could she think that this was...alright? This wasn’t how a mother should act or think or anything - his mother should be supporting him. His mother should be holding his hand and telling him everything is okay. She shouldn’t be assaulting him and threatening to kidnap him to get converted. He doesn’t want to hate his mother, but he’s finding it really hard to love her. </p><p>He whimpers and sags forward a little more. He feels Carole sit next to him on the couch, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so sorry Dave.” Her voice is so soft. </p><p>He hears a car and the sound of car doors slamming shut. His head snaps up and he stares at the front door as it opens and Burt Hummel walks in, followed closely by a wrecked looking Paul Karofsky. Paul’s hair is mussed up, his shirt is disheveled and ripped at the collar, he has a split lip and there’s a large smear of blood on his chin.</p><p>Dave almost screams out “Dad!” as he bolts off the couch, the full water glass tumbling to the ground. He races towards his dad, who is pushing Burt aside and throwing his arms open. Dave crashes into his dad, Paul clutches at Dave. Dave is crying, pressing his face into his dad’s shoulders. Slowly, Paul pulls back, his eyes searching Dave’s face carefully - “You okay, kid?” </p><p>Dave nods. “Yeah, I was just scared. Your lip!” </p><p>“I know - don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m sorry that happened - but I think they’ll leave you alone now, okay?”</p><p>“What did you say?”</p><p>“Nevermind that right now, okay? But we’re gonna stay here tonight.”</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>“Burt and I think it would be a good idea - just for tonight. And tomorrow morning, I made you an appointment with Dr. Anderson - you need to talk about what happened, okay?”</p><p>“But school…” </p><p>“You’re skipping it tomorrow.”</p><p>“Dad, what’s going on?” </p><p>“Nothing, Dave. Just trust me, okay?” </p><p>Dave bites his lip, eyes practically boring holes into his dad’s forehead, then he nods. “I trust you.” His dad sighs and visibly relaxes. But Dave knows something is up - he’s not sure what, but his dad is freaked out and still very angry. Something’s going on - something even more than what had happened at his house a few hours earlier. His dad has that intense lawyer look on his face - like he’s trying to solve a really tough case or something. And Dave can’t stop the feeling of worry rising in his gut. But he also knows his dad isn’t going to tell him anything - at least not yet. </p><p>Paul steps back, giving Dave as much of a reassuring smile as he can. “Okay. I have our bags in the car - I’m gonna go get them. Then I need to make a couple calls, and after that how about we just order dinner and try to have a normal night.” His eyes move slowly, begging anyone in the room to please agree with him. Just to help him make this moment a little easier - a little better for Dave. </p><p>Unsurprisingly, it’s Kurt who steps up. “I love that idea. Dave, why don’t you, Finn and I go watch a movie or something? And how about we get Indian - I’d kill for some garlic naan.” </p><p>Dave just stands there - watching his dad, who looks so tired and drained that he might fall over at any moment. His dad is staring back - almost begging him to say yes. His dad’s tongue slips out and pokes at his split lip, he winces in pain. The moment he sees the pain pass across his face, Dave knows he’d do anything for his dad, so Dave nods slowly. Then, as if they were waiting for permission, he feels Kurt and Finn step up, flanking him. They each grip an arm and guide him slowly into the den. Kurt is already making a bet with Finn that they’re going to end up watching Star Wars. </p><p>Behind him, he can hear Burt’s worried voice - “Paul, please just sit down.” And as he steps into the den, he hears - quietly - his dad’s angry voice, “If she won’t listen to reason, then I hope the police and a fucking  restraining order…” </p><p>His dad’s voice is cut off by Kurt, closing the door to the den. </p><p> </p><p>*********************</p><p><br/>{Two and a half months later}</p><p>Dave was sitting at the kitchen table - watching his dad pour them both a cup of coffee. He really shouldn’t be having one - he’d already snuck one with breakfast earlier. But right now, he just feels numb.  He’s being disowned, so you know what, he’ll have a fucking cup of coffee. </p><p>He tried to smile as his dad slid a cup of coffee in front of him and then sat down. His dad points at the coffee, “Don’t worry, it’s decaf - so you’re allowed.” </p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>“And I know you already had a cup this morning.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“I always know, Dave.” </p><p>“Oh.” Dave pulled the cup towards him and took a sip. He sighed and put it back down, frowning deeply.</p><p>“You okay? I’m sorry I lost it on you upstairs.” Paul tried to keep his tone even - even if he felt like there were a million different emotions boiling under the surface. </p><p>“It’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you.” Dave lifted his eyes to meet his dad’s equally sad ones. Twenty minutes earlier, Dave had been wailing and screaming incoherently as he realized his mother was officially washing her hands of her only son. And his father had been grabbing him and shaking him - yelling at him to calm down. “I didn’t mean to react like that.” </p><p>“It’s okay. I just got really freaked out. I, uh, called Dr. Anderson - we made an appointment for tomorrow. For both of us.” </p><p>“She doesn't normally work on Sundays.” </p><p>“No, but this is important. Dave, so I asked her to make an exception. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry your mother is…” Paul trailed off, his eyes shifting to look out the window, a sad look on his face. </p><p>“I just wish I knew how someone could do this to their own son.” Dave’s voice was a soft whisper. He’d been struggling with this question for...months now. Ever since that day when his mother had tried to take him away to an institution. </p><p>“I don’t know, Dave. I wish I did. But I don’t. That woman...she’s not the person I married. I wish I could…” Paul sighed and sipped his coffee. He just didn’t know what to say anymore. </p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Is it okay if Kurt still comes over - I think I’d like just to spend some time with my friend.” </p><p>“Yeah, of course.” Paul watched his son. He could see the hurt etched across Dave’s broad face. And he knew that this wasn’t a hurt that could be solved by some sci-fi movie or by a hug or anything. This was going to be a long lasting hurt - the kind of only time and support and love could even begin to heal. The kind that distance could lessen. “Dave...there’s something I want to talk to you about.”</p><p>“Okay.” Dave barely looked up from his coffee. </p><p>“I know we talked about schools - and I like all the places you applied to. But there’s something else and it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”</p><p>“Uh, okay?”</p><p>“I want us both to leave Lima.” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Wherever you move to - New York, Washington, Seattle, San Francisco - wherever, I’m coming with you. I’m going to sell this house, find a law firm that’ll take me and leave this place behind.” </p><p>“Dad…”</p><p>“This is not just about you Dave, okay? This is also about me. I don’t want to live in a place that let my son down, that let me down, like Lima has. I’m done with this place - so I’m coming with you. I just want to be close to you - you don’t have to live at home or anything, You can live in the dorms, if you want. But I need to leave this place and I need to take you with me.”</p><p>Dave stared at his dad. He slumped forward, tears already spilling from his already burning eyes. He nodded - he wanted out. He wanted to leave this place so badly it hurt sometimes. He wanted to get away from the pitying looks and the hateful words and the mother who hates him and just all of it. He wanted out. He felt his dad crouch next to him, wrapping him in a tight hug.  </p><p>***********************</p><p>Kurt Hummel was sitting on the floor of his room, reading a guidebook for New York, while Blaine sat on his bed, doing something on his phone. Neither had actually said a word in about an hour. Kurt was never really sure if this was entirely normal or if it was just the natural progression of a relationship?  Did every couple just stop interacting and felt comfortable being silent with each other? Or was there something going on? Because they’d been silent for a very long time now. </p><p>Kurt glanced at his alarm clock. Two o’clock. A couple more hours and he’d be on his way to David’s. He already had a small gift all wrapped and ready in his bag - he’d found this ridiculous Darth Vader bobble head thing while out with Finn the day before and had immediately bought it for Dave. Along with the gift - which was just a gift for a friend - he had packed a copy of All About Eve, because Dave needed to watch somethign other than depressing gay movies or sci fi. Plus, if he had to sit through watching Star Wars about fifteen times, and both Iron Man movies and The Dark Knight...well, Dave could handle a little Bette Davis. </p><p>Kurt also made a mental note to stop at the store on his way to Dave’s and grab some healthy snacks. He knew that Dave was still really stressed out over how his medication was affecting his weight, so it might be nice if they had stuff that he wouldn't feel awful about eating. And Kurt kind of hated how miserable Dave looked the last time he’d realized that he’s polished off a family size bag of Fritos on his own - and Kurt would really do anything to avoid Dave looking miserable. </p><p>Not that Kurt minded the extra weight that Dave had put on - which really was not as much as Dave believed it to be. The little bit of extra weight Dave had put on just made his friend even better to cuddle with. And at that thought, Kurt felt a warm blush heat his skin, because movie nights meant cuddle time. And Kurt was fully aware that he’d be able to cuddle with Dave tonight, which was one of his favorite things. If you had asked Kurt last year what he thought about the fact that he'd be cuddling with Dave Karofsky when they watched a movie, well Kurt would have laughed in your face. But it had become almost second nature for them by now - the hugging, the handholding, the cuddling. At first, he’d drummed it up to the fact that Dave needed human contact, but over the months since Dave had come home from the hospital, it had changed...it was just how they were with each other now. </p><p>And yeah, he knew it was probably wrong to do it. He knew Dave might still have feelings for him - although that was now in question, given that Dave never talked about what had happened on Valentines day or his confession to Kurt. And Kurt did have a boyfriend - so it was probably not the best idea to be as intimate with Dave as he used to being. Also, there was the new complication of Steve. </p><p>Steve - who brought up some very unwelcome feelings in Kurt. Feelings he really should not be feeling. He should not be feeling jealous or unhappy every time he sees Dave and Steve talking. And, last week at the group meeting, he really should not be getting angry when he saw Steve gently rubbing Dave’s back. No, those were all bad feelings - feelings he really isn’t supposed to be having. Especially since Dave is <em>not</em> his to be jealous or angry over. </p><p>He frowns at his guide book as the thought that maybe he and Dave should try not to cuddle so much tonight. No, the very idea that he wouldn’t have the weight of Dave’s head in his lap makes him feel incredibly sad. Perhaps they should talk things out - they talk everything else out. So maybe they could work through these feelings too. But if he told Dave how he felt, wouldn’t that give his friend a false sense of hope. </p><p>Unless he didn’t want it to be false?</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” The voice from the bed rattled Kurt out of his own brain and he looked up to find that Blaine was sitting up, staring at him.</p><p>“Nothing...”  Kurt smiled at him, quickly reorienting his face into a look of pure joy and not deep contemplation. </p><p>“Is nothing...Dave?” Blaine looked thoughtful and slightly upset. Not that Kurt could blame him really. </p><p>“Blaine, please don’t start this again.”</p><p>“Start what? That you seem perfectly happy to spend all your time with him. That you seem to think about him more than me...more than any of your other friends.”</p><p>“Yes that. And I’m not going to explain myself to you. Okay? Dave...he’s still on shaky ground. I promised him I’d be there...and I’m doing that. He doesn’t have many other friends...so I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but well... it’s just how it is.”</p><p>“He has Rachel and Mercedes and Tina and even Finn now - so I’d say your job is done.” </p><p>“My job?” Kurt narrowed his eyes, uncomfortable with that word and Blaine’s tone. </p><p>“Yeah - you don’t need to act like his savior anymore, he’ll be just fine.” </p><p>“Okay. I’m just going to ignore everything you just said and pretend you didn’t just insult my friendship with Dave.” </p><p>Blaine sighed and shook his head. “I want you to spend the evening with me.”</p><p>“Blaine, I told you...”</p><p>“I know what you told me. And now I’m telling you...I want you to spend the evening with me.”</p><p>“Blaine...”</p><p>“I don’t care if he’s lonely. Or whatever...I want to spend time with you. Look, we only have a few months till the summer, and then you’re going to be getting ready to disappear off to New York and then who knows what’s going to happen, but Kurt, I want to hang out too.” Blaine’s voice was this awful mixture of exasperation and frustration. He sounded so tired of the situation Kurt's put him - them - in. </p><p>“I know! But Dave and I have been planning tonight for the last week. And I asked you if you minded me hanging out with him tonight and you said no. I get that you want to hang out, I do. And I want to hang out with you too, but think about it Blaine - every person he thought he could trust except for his dad told him to go kill himself. He’s seventeen and he’s taking more antidepressants than some people will have to take in their lifetimes. I’m sorry you’re upset that I spend a lot of time with him, but he’s my friend. And I like being his friend. So, I’m not going to apologize for this - and I’m not cancelling our plans tonight.” </p><p>Blaine just shakes his head, his face etched in frustration. </p><p>Kurt is about to shift off the floor and move to the bed, and try to reassure his boyfriend that they’re as close as ever, when his phone starts ringing. It’s Dave. As he grabbed it, Blaine snapped with a hard angry voice, “Don’t answer it...we’re talking.”</p><p>Kurt just gave him a look. </p><p>“Dave?”</p><p>All he hears is a sob.</p><p>“Dave?! What’s wrong?” He knew that his voice had become panicked and slightly shrill - he can see it in the way Blaine nearly jumps off the bed, his face morphing from angry frustration to deep worry. And all at once, Kurt had visions of another noose made from a belt, or a razor blade being slicing deely into muscular wrists. His entire body went cold. “What’s happened?!” He almost shouts into the phone. </p><p>“K-k-kurt. This hurt...oh fuck! It hurts!”</p><p>“Dave...Dave...okay, just try to calm down. You need to calm down - try that breathing exercise. Remember?’</p><p>He hears Dave take a shaky breath, then another. And then another. Slowly, Kurt can tell that he’s getting himself back under control. “Okay, now, tell me what happened.”</p><p>There’s silence on the phone for a moment, and then in the saddest voice he’s ever heard Dave use, “She’s disowning me.” </p><p>Kurt’s eyes close, and he feels the burn of tears threatening to fall. He presses a hand to his mouth, forcing the sob that he knows was ready to burst out to stay in. He shakes his head slowly. “Oh Dave.”</p><p>“She doesn’t want me Kurt. She...she hates me. She told my dad that either I go to a reprogramming camp or she doesn’t have a son. She wants nothing to do with me!  Kurt...how could she do this? She’s supposed to be my mom!”</p><p>“Oh god Dave...I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I wish I knew. Dave, where are you right now?”</p><p>“In-in...my room.” </p><p>“Is your dad there?”</p><p>“Yeah, he’s downstairs...why would she pick some fucking God...something she’s never even seen over her son! Why?”</p><p>“Dave...I’m coming over right now, ok?”</p><p>“No...you’re supposed to see Blaine...I’ll be fine...”</p><p>“Be quiet. I’m on my way...just have to put my shoes on.”</p><p>“Ok...” The thank you went unspoken.</p><p>“Stay put! Or go downstairs and be with your dad - but just...” Kurt can’t even finish that thought, but if anything was going to push Dave back to that edge, it would be this. This could threaten everything he’d worked so hard for.</p><p>“I wouldn’t…” Dave’s voice was strained. Kurt can hear the anguish, but he can also hear the determination to survive.</p><p>“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Kurt ended the call and turned to face Blaine. Blaine was putting his favorite cardigan on. He glanced up at Kurt. His face said all it needed to.</p><p>“Blaine...his mom...” Kurt wasn’t even sure how to articulate what Dave had just told him, it feels so horrible to think about and even worse to actually speak out loud. </p><p>“Yeah...I know. Go. Be with your friend.  I’ll talk to you later.” Blaine walked out of the room, pausing in the doorway. “Kurt, I love you. And I get it...what happened to David was one of the worst things that could happen to anyone, but you’re not responsible for him.”</p><p>“I know that.”</p><p>“Do you?’</p><p>“He’s my friend, Blaine. And he doesn’t have anyone else...”</p><p>“And you’d tell me if it was something else, right?”</p><p>Kurt finished putting on his shoes, he grabbed his coat and pushed past Blaine.  “Yes yes. I have to go...” Kurt forced himself to ignore the thought that niggled at the corner of his mind when Blaine actually vocalized that idea. Kurt pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder, and started towards the stairs. “Hold on, Dave.  I’m coming...” He muttered to himself...just loud enough for Blaine to hear.  </p><p>He raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. As he landed in the front hallway, he saw his dad standing there, also pulling on his jacket. They lock eyes for a moment - his dad’s face is sad and angry. Kurt knows that face - he’s seen it a few times lately, and it usually has to do with something with Dave and his dad. </p><p>“Dad? Did Mr. Karofsky call you?” </p><p>His dad doesn’t even hesitate, his voice was laced with vitriol “That woman doesn’t deserve to have Dave as her son. Come on, we’ll go together. You drive, Paul will drop me off later.” </p><p>And as they’d been doing for months now, Kurt and Burt Hummel ran out the door to try and help a broken boy and his father put the pieces of their lives back together. </p><p>-/- </p><p>Dave wiggled the Darth Vader bobble head. He shouldn’t find this as amusing as he does, but he can’t help the exhausted giggle that escapes him. “Thanks for this Kurt, I really like it.” </p><p>Kurt was sitting crossed legged on the far end of Dave’s bed, watching Dave with a look of deep concern. “You’re welcome. I just thought you’d like it.” They’re both acutely aware of how uncomfortable being in Dave’s room makes Kurt, but neither boy really wants to be downstairs at the moment. Downstairs holds a very angry Burt Hummel and an even angrier Paul Karofsky. So, they retreated to Dave’s room and Kurt just had to suck it up. </p><p>He’ll just avoid looking at Dave’s closet. </p><p>Kurt watches as Dave frowned deeply at the little black plastic figurine in his hands, looking at it like it should hold all the answers in the universe. Dave gave it another shake, causing the oversized head to wobble erratically. “Dave?” </p><p>Dave glanced up, his eyes are watery. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>Dave sat quietly for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then, quietly, “What if I don’t ever get over this, Kurt? Like I keep taking these big steps forward - going out with your friends..” </p><p>“Our friends.” </p><p>“Right. Our friends. I’m cool spending time with our friends. I’m going to Pass and I’m actually talking about things. I’m even chatting with a guy and thinking about going out for coffee with him. I’m applying to schools all over the country. I’m okay saying that I’m gay now. Like, every day it feels like I’m taking all these huge steps forward, but this - I don’t know if I can recover from this.” </p><p>“I’m sorry Dave.” </p><p>“Like, I don’t know if hanging with you or going to the mall with Mercedes or playing video games with Finn or even talking to Dr. Anderson is going to help me. I feel...I feel empty inside right now. My mom actually decided to not have anything to do with me ever again - how do I even start being okay with that?”</p><p>“I wish I could tell you what to do. I really do, Dave. I wish I knew what the magic formula was to help you, but I really have no idea.” </p><p>“I know, Kurt. I’m sorry I shouldn’t be putting all this on you. You and I - this isn’t stuff that we should have to deal with.” </p><p>“But right now, we are dealing with it. So, please stop worrying that it’s too much or something. And just let me be your friend and help you.” </p><p>“Okay.” Dave’s eyes dropped again and he stared at the bobble head. </p><p>Kurt stretched his legs out and shifted down on the bed, so he was almost lying down, then he reached out to Dave. “Come here.” Dave looked up and smiled, he put down the figurine and got onto all fours - crawling towards Kurt. He lay down, tucked up against Kurt, with his head resting on Kurt’s chest. </p><p>Kurt wrapped his arms around the larger boy and held him tightly. Dave shifted his head so he was looking up at Kurt’s chin. “Kurt?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Thank you - for everything. I’m so happy you’re my best friend.”</p><p>Kurt lay there for a moment, the incredible weight of Dave in his arms - he wasn’t sure what to say. So, he did the thing that just felt the most natural. He bent his head and pressed his lips to Dave’s forehead. And as his lips touched skin, he felt a flutter in his heart. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title from I’ll be better soon by Nachbi (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEZ4YgncH_Y)</p><p>This was an insanely hard chapter to write - I've had the barebones of it for years, but putting it together was rough. Sorry for any errors - I couldn't keep reading it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A brighter day is coming my way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning - mentions of suicide</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>{Three Weeks After Dave’s Release}</strong>
</p>
<p>The couch was comfortable - it’s soft and envelopes him like a giant fluffy cloud and he loves it. Or at least he thinks he does - he thinks that he would love it, should love it, if he could feel that particular emotion. Or maybe he would hate it - if he could hate. Or maybe he would find it annoying. Yeah, maybe he would find the softness of the couch really annoying...but then again, he can barely remember what being annoyed feels like. </p>
<p>He thinks...well, he would think if he could think...that he would like to be annoyed by something. But he wouldn’t like it - because he doesn’t know how to like anything anymore. </p>
<p>It makes him want to scream in frustration...but that would take too much energy and he doesn’t have any energy to spare. </p>
<p>Dave had spent the last three weeks lying on this couch - or lying in his bed. He had a little routine by now - waking up at nine and lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, but seeing nothing, feeling nothing. Then when his dad makes his usual appearance to encourage him to get up, he slowly rises and lumbers down the stairs - making a beeline for the couch, where he lies down again.</p>
<p>Sometimes he turns the TV on, sometimes he doesn’t. If he does, then he lies there and watches a bunch of things moving on the screen. He doesn’t really care what they’re doing. He’ll sit up when he needs to eat and he’ll shuffle to the bathroom when he needs to. He’ll drink water when it’s handed to him. He’ll shift his position when Kurt or his dad want to join him on the couch. </p>
<p>When Kurt sits on the couch, Dave lies with his head in Kurt’s lap - he tries to wonder if he likes that. </p>
<p>Today is no different. He woke up at nine - like clockwork - and just lay in bed for a while. He tried to think about what he wanted to do today. He tried to think about what he wanted for breakfast - he remembered his dad telling him he bought pop tarts. Would he want those - would they taste good? Would he like them? He lay there for about an hour, trying to think about pop tarts, until he felt his dad settle down onto the bed. </p>
<p>“Hey kid. How are you doing?”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“I thought I’d make you some french toast today - and I bought real maple syrup.” </p>
<p>“Cool, I guess.” </p>
<p>He hears his dad sigh. “Dave...are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Just tired” </p>
<p>“I don’t know - you sleep so much, all you do is lie around. Maybe we could go out - I could take you to a GameStop or to that comic book store you love?”</p>
<p>“Kurt said he’d stop and pick up some comics for me and come over today.”</p>
<p>He feels his dad run a hand gently across his forehead, pushing his bangs away from his eyes. “Dave, you’d tell me if something is wrong, right? Maybe I should call Dr. Anderson?” The tone of worry in his dad’s voice weighs down on him. </p>
<p>“Yeah.” He would. He wants to tell his dad. But he doesn’t know how - he doesn’t care enough right now. He knows he should feel bad for this...for something...but it feels like swimming through jello to reach that emotion. So he just sits up and looks blankly at his dad. “Can I have breakfast now?”  </p>
<p>“Yeah, kid. Come on, let’s get you some food.” His dad slowly got up and walked towards the door. Dave watched, knowing that the slumped shape of his dad should be making him feel bad. He should be hurting for how bad his dad is hurting, but...he can’t. </p>
<p>Dave manages to stumble out of bed and makes his way towards the stairs - pausing long enough to remember that he probably should put a shirt on. He bends down and picks up the same shirt he was wearing yesterday and the day before that and the day before that...his old Dungeons &amp; Dragons shirt. It smells a little. It has food stains on it...whatever.</p>
<p>He slowly makes his way down the stairs, already smelling frying egg and cinnamon, but all he wants is the couch. </p>
<p>
  <strong>-/- </strong>
</p>
<p>He heard Kurt and Burt come in a while ago, but neither has yet to appear in the living room. But he can hear the soft mummers of conversation in the living room. Somewhere in the fog that is his brain, he wonders if they're talking about him. Then, because maintaining that thought process is hard, he just looks back at the TV - it’s an episode of The Clone Wars. He loves this show. </p>
<p>Right? </p>
<p>Yeah. He does. He remembers watching it a lot. He remembers buying the third season on DVD and staying up all night watching it. Did he enjoy that? Would he enjoy it now? He feels a tear slide down his face as he struggles to remember liking things - but it’s hard, hard to remember. Hard to care. </p>
<p>“Hey.” The voice is soft and startles him. He looked up to see Kurt, standing in front of him, wearing a Lady Gaga t-shirt and skinny jeans, carrying a plastic bag. “I thought I’d come in and see if you’d like some company.” </p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Lift your head.” </p>
<p>Dave does and feels Kurt settle down on the couch, carefully propping Dave’s head back on his lap. Then Kurt’s fingers are softly running through his hair. This he knows he should care about - this he knows he should absolutely love this - but it almost felt like it’s happening to someone else. And he just lay there, letting it happen. </p>
<p>“Dave, my dad and I stopped at the comic book store, we picked up your weekly stash.” </p>
<p>‘Thanks.” </p>
<p>“Do you want me to read you an issue, like last week?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” </p>
<p>“Okay...let’s see what we have.” Kurt opens up the plastic bag he’d propped up on the arm of the sofa, and started rifling through comics. “We have a Batman - there’s something about owls. How about that?”</p>
<p>Dave struggled to remember - there was something about owls in the issues he’d been reading before he decided to kill himself. But he couldn’t really remember liking it or caring about it either. So he shrugged. “That’d be cool.” </p>
<p>“Alright, let’ do it.”  Kurt flipped open the comic and started to read. Dave just lay there, trying to listen to what Kurt was saying. He knew the words - he knew Kurt was reading about Batman - but none of it made sense. He didn’t know if he should enjoy this or love it. Should he feel suspenseful when Kurt makes some dramatic noise to illustrate something? </p>
<p>And Kurt was helping Dave do something he loved - he loved having other worlds to escape into - escape everything that was going on around him. He loved how comic books would let him fall head first into his imagination and he could just escape. But it wasn’t working - he didn’t care. He didn’t know how to care.</p>
<p>He wanted to have fun. He wanted to embrace it and laugh with Kurt...but laughter and fun and joy, they weren’t there. They felt too far away. They weren’t something he could feel. In the same way he couldn’t get excited about getting up in the morning or talking to his dad. In the same way that he couldn’t feel happy and grateful that he was still alive. </p>
<p>He was still alive! He was here! He didn’t die! So why wasn’t he happy about this! Why couldn’t he feel happy? He was lying in Kurt’s lap - something that would have once sent him over the moon, something that would have made his year - no scratch that, his millennium.  And he just...felt nothing. He just couldn’t care. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t feel happy. Couldn’t feel excited. It didn’t even feel like this moment was real. It felt all so hazy. </p>
<p>Suddenly, he could feel  a wetness spreading across his face - he was crying, silently. Kurt paused, his fingers grazing Dave’s face. There was a small noise of surprise from the other boy. </p>
<p>“Dave?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“You’re crying.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“You don’t need to be sorry.”</p>
<p>He struggled - the fog was so heavy. It felt so hard to get to the surface. But he needed to tell Kurt - he wanted to...he wanted to feel. “Ok. I’ll...try to be better.”</p>
<p>“Oh Dave...don’t...you’re just perfect.” </p>
<p>“No I’m not. I’m broken.”</p>
<p>“We’ll get you through this, I promise..”</p>
<p>He opened his mouth - he had to. He had to tell someone. He didn’t want to swim in this anymore. He tried to force himself to feel something - anything, just enough to help him ask for help. Finally, it was there - this tiny little nugget, burning against his heart. He grabbed at it and held on tight. His voice was ragged and quiet. “I’m scared, Kurt...I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel anything. I just feel...nothing. And it’s hard to think - I can’t even remember what it feels like to feel...I’m scared. ”</p>
<p>He can hear Kurt’s small intake of breath as those fingers gently brushed his hair. When he speaks, after a few minutes, Kurt’s voice is tearful and sad. “Dave, I’m going to go into the kitchen for a few minutes okay? I just want to talk to our dads. Will you be okay if I leave you here or do you want to come with me?”</p>
<p>“I dunno - it’s hard to think.” </p>
<p>There is another long pause. “Okay, why don’t you come with me? We can talk to them together.”  </p>
<p>Dave feels himself slowly being pushed into a sitting position and then Kurt’s warm hands are grasping his arms and pulling him off the sofa and he’s being led into the kitchen. His dad and Burt are sitting at the kitchen table, cups of coffee sitting between them - Dave’s dad has his head in hands and his shoulders are shaking slightly. He’s clearly crying. Dave knows he should feel...something. </p>
<p>“Dad? Mr. Karofsky?” Kurt does nothing to hide the tears in his voice. Dave’s dad’s head pops up immediately, and he looks very scared. </p>
<p>“Boys? What’s wrong?” Burt is getting up from the table. </p>
<p>Kurt, still gripping Dave’s forearm, guides them to the table, slowly pushing Dave into a chair. Dave just sort of slumps there. “I think Dave needs help.” </p>
<p>Paul moves quickly to kneel in front of his son. He lifts his hands to tenderly hold Dave’s face. “Dave? What’s wrong?” </p>
<p>Dave just starts crying - tears running down his cheeks - even though he’s not sure why or what’s really happening to him. He opens his mouth, he wants to tell his dad everything he just told Kurt - but his thoughts keep getting muddled. He knows he should say he doesn’t feel anything - but is that right? Or is it that he can’t think? He looks pleadingly at Kurt. </p>
<p>“Dave says that he’s having trouble feeling things - or even thinking. And he just started crying, but I don’t think he knew it was happening.” Kurt’s voice is a whisper. “He said he was scared.”</p>
<p>Paul stares at Dave's face, thumbs running slowly over Dave’s cheeks. “Okay. I’m going to call Dr. Anderson and see if we can’t get you some help, right away. I’m gonna go call her, Burt and Kurt are going to stay right here, okay?” </p>
<p>Dave nodded. “Kay.” </p>
<p>His dad gets up and walks over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his cellphone, before disappearing through the doorway into the front all. Burt pulls his chair closer to Dave and loops an arm around Dave’s shoulders. “You’re gonna be okay, Dave. We’re gonna get you some help.” </p>
<p>Dave opens his hand, reaching for Kurt. He feels Kurt’s hand slip into his own, grounding him and giving him something real and solid to hold onto. Through the haze, he feels something very close to thankfulness. </p>
<p>
  <strong>-/-</strong>
</p>
<p>Dr. Anderson’s waiting room is like every other waiting room he’s ever been in - a couple rows of hard, generic chairs with a couple ugly paintings decorating the walls. But this room is also meant to encourage relaxation and mindfulness, so it is done up in muted peach tones and soft blues. There is quiet ambient music playing from invisible speakers. </p>
<p>Dave, Kurt and Burt are sitting along one row of the hard chairs, waiting. Paul had disappeared with Dr. Anderson, into her office, about twenty five minutes ago. Dave was just sitting there, slumped forward slightly staring down at his feet while gripping Kurt’s hand in his sweaty palm. He can see Burt is reading some old fishing magazine, keeping one watchful eye on Dave. </p>
<p>Kurt turns slowly to look at Dave. His worried face was trying to project positivity. “Ok, tell me one thing you want to do when you feel better.”</p>
<p>“Dunno.”</p>
<p>“Yes you do. Come on, David. Please try...what’s something that you want to do, or something that will make you happy.” Kurt’s voice had a tone of not quite pleading, but almost stark fear at the idea that he might lose Dave into whatever foggy funk he was trapped inside. Dave noticed that Burt had lowered the magazine and was paying full attention to the boys sitting next to him. </p>
<p>He shuts his eyes. “It’s hard...my brain is all fuzzy.”</p>
<p>“I know...I know. But maybe if you have something to focus on...anything, even if it’s a comic book or a movie or anything.”</p>
<p>Dave tries to focus on something - tries to remember something he was excited for, before he stopped being excited. A movie. There was a movie...something he’d been excited about. Something he and Az had talked about seeing. “The Hunger Games!” Dave practically spat out.</p>
<p>Kurt seems a touch taken aback - like this was not exactly the answer he was expecting. “...huh? Ok, what about it?”</p>
<p>Dave keeps his eyes closed, if he focuses hard enough he can push through the fog and keep the idea in his head. “I really like the books. I wanted to go see the movie. I...I want to go see the movie.”</p>
<p>“OK!” Kurt sounds excited! Thrilled even. “Then we’ll go see it. Together. But you need to get better first, ok? We’ll use The Hunger Games as something to help keep you focused on all the little baby steps you need to take.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  I don’t want to disappoi...”</p>
<p>“You will never disappoint us, Dave.” Kurt says, voice low and hushed. And Dave feels Burt put his arm around his shoulders - helping to anchor him to the here and now. And anchor him to the idea of going to the movies...soon. He hears the door to Dr. Anderson’s inner office open and sees her and his dad emerge - both are smiling at him. </p>
<p>She kneels in front of him. Her long strawberry red hair cascading down her shoulders and her soft kind face offering him so much hope - if only he could grasp onto it. “Hi Dave.” </p>
<p>“Hi.” </p>
<p>“Your dad says you’re having some issues, which I think are because of your medication. So we’re gonna get you on some new stuff. But would you like to tell me about how you’re feeling?”</p>
<p>“I can try.” </p>
<p>“Okay, come on into my office and we can talk. Paul, I’m going to leave you out here, we won’t be long.” She extended a long carefully manicured hand towards Dave, and helped him up. “I promise you’ll be okay, Dave. I think I know what’s going on.” </p>
<p>Dave let himself be led into her muted yellow office, thoughts of Katniss and Peeta hovering on the edge of his mind.  </p>
<p> <br/>*********************************</p>
<p>
  <strong>{Three Months Later}</strong>
</p>
<p>“You are a very confusing boy.” Dave is lounging on his bed, watching as Kurt slowly rifles through some of Dave’s shirts - with a look on his face that tells Dave he was going to be dragged to the mall very soon. Not that Dave wears any of those shirts anymore - he’s gotten even bigger lately, so they certainly don’t fit him. </p>
<p>“Why? What did I do!?” Kurt glanced up from examining Dave’s favorite flannel shirt. “And we need to find  you more shirts like this.” </p>
<p>“You’re telling me that you would rather watch Pride and Prejudice than read it!”</p>
<p>“Why is that a weird thing?”</p>
<p>“Because...it’s Jane Austen!!!”</p>
<p>“David...I know this might seem inexplicable to you, but even though I try to be a paragon of all things cultural...I just never got around to reading it.”</p>
<p>“But...it was required reading last year!” Dave shakes his head, firmly believing there’s no excuse for not having read the classics - even his dad has at least read Emma. </p>
<p>Kurt’s voice drops and he starts picking at a thread on Dave’s shirt. “Um...I was at Dalton...we didn’t have to read it.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Right...” Dave’s eyes immediately shot to the floor. He rubbed his feet together - suddenly, very nervous and ashamed. He keeps hoping his guilt over the way he treated Kurt will go away - he knows Kurt is past it, but still...</p>
<p>“Dave...stop mentally beating yourself up. I thought we were past that...”</p>
<p>“I know, I guess I just hate thinking about what I did...” </p>
<p>“Well, stop it. Today isn’t about being sad, remember?”</p>
<p>“I know. I know. Today is all about us celebrating our college acceptances and having a friend date.”</p>
<p>“Right. And apparently, you lecturing me on why I should read more ‘great literature.’” Kurt says, with a slight tone of condensation, complete with air quotes. </p>
<p>“I just don’t understand why you haven’t read these books!”</p>
<p>“I will eventually.”</p>
<p>Dave huffed an exaggerated sigh and shoved himself off the bed, shaking his head. From the small bookcase next to his desk he pulled a small paperback off the top shelf. He turned around and thrust it at Kurt, who was slowly hanging Dave’s shirts back up. “Here. You can borrow my copy.”  </p>
<p>Kurt looked skeptical. “You sure?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m sure. I trust you...and I know where you live, so if you don’t return it I can always hunt you down.”</p>
<p>“Right.”  Kurt smiled and took the book. He glanced at the back, skimming over the short summary of the book. “I’ll see how I like it, ok?”</p>
<p>“You make it sound like I’m asking you to swallow live bugs or something.”</p>
<p>Kurt opened the book and read the first few sentences. “So far, it sounds...very dated.”</p>
<p>“It’s a classic, Kurt. You can’t just read the biographies of Broadway stars or gay romances all the time...”</p>
<p>“I’ll have you know, I read good classic literature all the time.”</p>
<p>“Oh, right, like that copy of Anna Karenina that’s been next to your bed for...how long?”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Dave.”  </p>
<p>“If this is too hard for you, I have the graphic novel of P&amp;P around here somewhere...”</p>
<p>“There’s a graphic novel? And what do you mean, ‘if it’s too hard!?’”</p>
<p>“Yeah...you know, if the words are too big or old fashioned...of course, you could always read Pride &amp; Prejudice and Zombies.”</p>
<p>“I am this close to hitting you over the head with the book. And you know I hate zombies.”</p>
<p>“Books are for reading, not hitting. Didn’t you learn anything in kindergarten! And those books are funny...stupid, but funny.”  </p>
<p>“Ok, I’m putting an end to this whole conversation.” Kurt put the book into his bag and took in Dave’s appearance. “Since we’re having a friend date...”</p>
<p>“Kurt…” Dave let a slight warning tone slip into his voice.</p>
<p>“What?!”</p>
<p>“You’re about to ask me to change into one of my button up shirts.”</p>
<p>“I’m not complaining about how you dress, Dave. But you spend every day - all day - in the same set of oversized t-shirts and hoodies. I mean, I appreciate all the nerdy t-shirts you own, but I’d love to see you wear one of your plaid shirts again.” </p>
<p>“They don’t fit anymore.” Dave slumped down onto the bed, his eyes locked onto the floor in front of him. “I’m still gaining weight, even with all the working out Finn and I do.” </p>
<p>Kurt frowned and sat down next to him, immediately slipping his hand into Dave’s. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring you down today. I really don’t.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay. I talked to Dr. Anderson about it. It’s making me feel even worse about myself, I’m starting to feel like a giant walking ball of lard.”</p>
<p>“You know that you aren’t right. You look…handsome.” Kurt’s voice got a bit higher and he blushed slightly. “I mean…uh…”</p>
<p>Dave barely looked up - missing Kurt’s blush. “Thanks. I’m trying - Dr. Anderson is going to look into decreasing my dose actually.” </p>
<p>“Oh! Wow! How do you feel about that?” </p>
<p>“Scared, but excited. Look, Kurt, I appreciate you wanting to talk me through this, but, uh, can we try to focus on something fun today? I kinda just want to lose myself in something fun.” </p>
<p>Kurt mentally kicked himself, but shoved that thought right down and brightened his smile. “Yes! Of course, I’m sorry. So, what are we doing today?”</p>
<p>“Movie...remember?” </p>
<p>“The Hunger Games!” Kurt beams up at him. “Of course, I remember. Are you ready for it?”</p>
<p>“Of course.  I’ve been looking forward to this for months. Ever since we talked about it that day in the doctor’s office.”</p>
<p>“And now here we are...”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry you have to sit through it again.”</p>
<p>“Again?” Kurt looked confused.  </p>
<p>“I figured you and Blaine would have gone...”</p>
<p>“I promised I would see it with you.”</p>
<p>“You...you...waited?”</p>
<p>“Yup. It was important to you.”</p>
<p>Dave sat for a moment - silently. He was unsure what to say or think. He knew he and Kurt had made the deal to see The Hunger Games together, but he’d never thought that Kurt would wait to see the movie until he was ready...until he was better. Dave blinked hard, trying to hold back the onslaught of tears that were starting to well up. </p>
<p>He suddenly felt two warm hands, gripping his forearms. Kurt had moved away from the closet and was kneeling in front of him, pulling Dave gently towards him. Dave sagged forward into Kurt’s arms. He buried his face into Kurt’s neck. Dave sighed against Kurt’s skin...causing the other boy to shudder slightly.  </p>
<p>Kurt slid a hand up Dave’s broad back, allowing his fingers to tangle in the hair at the nape of Dave’s neck. They stayed like that for a long while - Dave’s large body sitting on the bed, pressed heavily against Kurt. As always, they both found it so easy to just enjoy the sensation of being close to each other. </p>
<p>It was moments like this when Dave’s feelings for Kurt threatened to bubble to the surface - these deep intimate touches and embraces. He worked so hard to keep them stamped down - to keep those feelings tightly sealed in their little locked box, but when he felt Kurt’s fingers gently playing with the curls of hair at the nape of his neck - that box got a little less tightly sealed. And Dave knew that his feelings for Kurt would never subside if he kept allowing himself to get pulled into these kinds of situations...he knew that he would never get over his desire to be with Kurt. But at the same time, the idea of not being able to hug Kurt...it killed him.</p>
<p>Every time Kurt held him. Every time Kurt’s hand slipped into his. Every time Kurt smiled at him...his heart skipped a few beats. And that lock box got a little less secret. Those chains that he kept it securely locked with - they loosened a bit. And he fell a little deeper into the black hole that was his affection for the smaller boy. Until he was alone in his room and he could slowly start to reseal that box and rewrap those chains. </p>
<p>And even Steve, who Dave was inching closer and closer to saying yes to, wasn’t enough to keep that box closed. But he would - he would keep it closed. Kurt wasn’t his - Kurt was Blaine’s. And he wasn’t going to let Kurt cheat on Blaine - for a million different reasons, not the least of which being that Dave just couldn't handle that kind of situation right now. And there was no way he was going to lose Kurt as his friend - that was just not an option. </p>
<p>After a while, Dave slowly pulled back. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. When he glanced at Kurt, the boy had a strange look on his face...almost as though he was upset the embrace had ended. Dave shook his head, deciding to ignore it. </p>
<p>“Sorry...” Dave mumbled.</p>
<p>“It’s ok.” Kurt said, quietly.</p>
<p>“Should...should we go?”</p>
<p>“Yeah...we should. You still want dinner after?” Kurt was clearly trying to bring them back to something good and fun and not tainted by hurt. Or awkwardness. </p>
<p>“Of course!” Dave breathed a sigh of relief, happy at the topic change. “Can we eat someplace that’s not the ‘stix though?”</p>
<p>“God yes!  Want to go to Thai Jasmine?” Kurt smiled as he squeezed Dave’s arms one last time before standing up and picking up his bag. </p>
<p> “Sounds perfect.” Dave pushed himself up from the bed, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. “And over dinner, I'll convince you to read Pride and Prejudice.” </p>
<p>“You got me to watch The Phantom Menace - wasn’t that enough!?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>*******************************</strong>
</p>
<p><br/>Kurt watched as a small crowd of people rushed out of an early afternoon showing of The Avengers - most of the people were almost running into the washroom right across from him. He frowned, knowing how annoyed Dave would be at the number of people he’d have to face the moment he walked out of a stall. He knew that Dave still had some trouble dealing with crowds. </p>
<p>He momentarily considered heading into the bathroom to enact a heroic rescue, but realizeed that would probably freak Dave out even more than if he just stood here waiting. He knew Dave would be okay - he’d been getting progressively more and more okay with every passing day. And Kurt could not be more proud of his friend. </p>
<p>Friend, it was a pretty simple word, but it was also a really complicated word. And Kurt didn’t really know what to think when it came to that damn word anymore. And when it came to him and Dave, well that fucking word got even more complicated. Especially since Kurt wasn't sure whether that word applied anymore...friend. </p>
<p>Were he and Dave still friends? Well, in Dave’s eyes, they were - because there wasn’t a single thing that Kurt had done to indicate otherwise. Because Kurt was keeping something very close to the chest. In fact, he was keeping a lot of things rather close to his chest. Like right now - he was keeping the fact that his fingers itched as close to his chest as possible. Because if he admitted that his fingers itched, he would need to admit so much more. So very much more. </p>
<p>But god damn, his fingers itched. And not because they were actually itchy or anything. No.  They itched out of longing. A longing to be held gently in the overpowering embrace of Dave Karofsky’s hands.  </p>
<p>They itched because they missed the feeling of a large, but surprisingly smooth, thumb slowly caressing his index finger. They missed the feeling of a ragged fingernail accidentally brushing the top of his hand. They missed the way Dave’s palms got sweaty when he’s nervous. And they missed the way Dave’s hand would tighten during a tense or upsetting moment.  </p>
<p>In short, they missed Dave. Which was a bit of a misnomer...it wasn’t just his hands that missed Dave, the fact was that Kurt missed Dave. Kurt missed Dave, even though they’d been apart maybe three minutes. </p>
<p>The handholding was nothing really new. Ever since that day in the hospital, Dave and Kurt liked holding hands. It had become a simple gesture of support, something Kurt knew Dave held on to like some kind of life raft. The weight of Kurt’s hand in his...well it seemed to help keep him from sinking under whatever tidal wave was threatening to pull him down. And since February, there had been so many tidal waves threatening Dave.  </p>
<p>Kurt had examined and re-examined his relationship with Dave so many times now that he could probably write a dissertation on the subject. Mortal enemies to awkward acquaintances to unrequited love to occasional acquaintances. And, in the three months since Dave had almost ended his life, something very strange had happened. They had shifted again, and Kurt and Dave had gone from occasional acquaintances to best friends.  </p>
<p>Dave was still often awkward and nervous around Kurt’s other friends, but when it was just the two of them, it was an entirely different story. Dave became animated, excitable, even silly at times. And he pulled Kurt right along with him. Kurt found himself getting excited about things he never thought would even interest him, like comic books or that ridiculous animated Star Wars tv show.  Every facade that Dave had ever built was gone and Kurt was getting to see the real Dave - a person they’d affectionately started calling Nerd Dave. Funny but serious. Insanely smart, but still extremely self conscious. A man who loved numbers and math and logic and solving problems, who could name every single fact there was to name about Star Wars, Or who surprised Kurt with a love of things like Jane Austen. The Dave that had started to emerge since February was wonderful, awkward, complicated, shy and so sweet.   </p>
<p>And Kurt kept getting to see the most amazing things through Dave’s eyes - like watching Dave experience certain movies that Kurt just felt Dave had to see. Or the day Mercedes had walked up to him in school and said, “You’re one of the coolest guys I know.” Something Kurt realized, no one had ever said to him before. Or the day they went to Dave’s first meeting of the Pass queer group. The look on Dave’s face when he had actually realized he was brave enough to talk had been one of a kind.  </p>
<p>Kurt smiled sadly as he remembered how overcome Dave had been by the end of that meeting. And how they sat in Kurt’s car for half an hour while Dave cried. And he certainly remembered holding Dave’s hand the whole time they were at the meeting.  </p>
<p>But it was the touching that really was doing Kurt in - and really hitting home the intensity of what he was starting to realize. The touching had not started right away, but seemed to happen gradually. First it had been a hug or the squeeze of a hand. Then, after Dave had come home from the hospital, desperate to touch and feel someone who cared for him, Kurt’s wall had crumbled and he’d just held Dave. And when Dave’s medication had sent him on a roller coaster, it had become a lot more intimate. That was when Kurt had started feeling like Dave Karofsky wasn’t just some friend, but rather was the friend. The friend that Kurt would do anything to help.  </p>
<p>And secretly, he loved the weight of Dave’s head in his lap...which was why they probably ended up in the position every time they watched a movie.  </p>
<p>And things were shifting again - the relationship was changing. Kurt was no idiot. He knew what was going on. He knew that this person, who had become his best friend, was slowly morphing into something else.  </p>
<p>Something...more.</p>
<p>Something significant. </p>
<p>And he was letting it happen.</p>
<p>He had really noticed it a few weeks ago, when Dave called to tell him about his mother’s decision to completely remove Dave from her life. The utter sense of urgency Kurt had felt to get to Dave. The almost dismissive way he’d treated Blaine. The fact that he’d managed to almost get a speeding ticket on the way to Dave’s house. And the way that every fiber in his being wanted to kiss the tears away from Dave’s face when he saw him.</p>
<p>Although, in reality, everything had probably started that awful day when Dave’s mom had tried to take Dave away. He’d never felt as strong an urge to protect someone as he had that day. He’d been ready to murder. </p>
<p>Yes, Kurt Hummel was no fool. He knew what was going on on. He knew why his fingers were itching...why they missed the feeling of Dave’s hand.  </p>
<p>He was falling for Dave.  </p>
<p>Which was either a very good idea or a very very bad one.  </p>
<p>Kurt’s unseeing eyes were plastered on the floor in front of him. He was lost in the mazes of his head as he tried to navigate exactly what he should do about all this. There were so many things to think about. Dave. Himself. Blaine. He really didn’t know what to do.</p>
<p>Kurt was so deep in thought, staring at the floor, that he didn’t hear Dave come up behind him. Or hear what he was saying? Until...</p>
<p>“Kurt?” Dave said loudly.</p>
<p>Kurt jumped slightly. “My god! Dave!”</p>
<p>“Sorry...” The bigger boy immediately frowned and blushed. Clearly worried that he’d upset Kurt.</p>
<p>“It’s ok...I was a million miles away.” Kurt could feel the blush starting to creep up his body, but he gave himself a shake to stop himself from showing it. </p>
<p>Dave’s eyes narrowed, clearly noticing something was wrong. “I noticed. Are you ok?”  </p>
<p>“Yup! Sorry...guess I just started one train of thought and got trapped on the Kurt Brain Train.” Kurt prayed that he was covering his obvious state of discomfort well enough for Dave to just keep going with the afternoon. </p>
<p>Dave cocked his head slightly, considering. Then he smiled. “Oh. Ok. As long as you’re sure...”</p>
<p>“I’m sure. What did you say while I wasn’t listening?”</p>
<p>“I said, we’d be doing the citizens of Lima a favor if we reported the state of that bathroom to the health department.”</p>
<p>“That is why I refuse to use movie theatre washrooms.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, I was kinda desperate.”</p>
<p>“I told you not to get the large diet Sprite.”</p>
<p>“Live and learn.”</p>
<p>“Whatever...next time we watch a movie, you’ll be back to your usual bladder bursting ways.”</p>
<p>“Probably.” Dave grinned at him. Kurt's entire body went warm at the sight. Dave had an infectious smile. It was big and bold. And it was such a rare sight - or at least it had been - that Kurt always felt blessed when he was graced with one.  </p>
<p>Kurt returned Dave’s smile. And then, without thinking about it, he reached out and took Dave’s hand. Dave let his fingers become entwined with Kurt’s, giving their joined hand a brief confused look. Dave rarely let himself show affection for anyone in public. </p>
<p>“I’m really glad we saw the movie together, Dave.” </p>
<p>“Me too. Thank you again for waiting for me.”</p>
<p>“It was worth it.”</p>
<p>Dave gave Kurt’s hand a final squeeze before pulling back and started rubbing the back of his neck, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “So, do you still want to grab dinner?”</p>
<p>“Of course!” </p>
<p>As they turned and started walking towards the exit - with Dave excitedly recounting his top five favorite moments of the movie - Kurt found himself facing a predicament. He was drifting closer and closer to Dave, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch Dave again. But the pull was stronger than just to hold hands. He was stepping into some dangerous territory and he knew that he was going to have to deal with this...and soon. </p>
<p>
  <strong>-/-</strong>
</p>
<p>Strangely enough, as far as Kurt and Dave were concerned, the best food in Lima was not at Breadstix or at The Main Street Bistro, which was the go to place for romantic dates among those without budget constraints. No, the best food in Lima, Ohio was found at Thai Jasmine. A small unassuming restaurant that was nestled in one of the more unsavory areas of town. A small beige building that was decorated to resemble a traditional Thai house on the outside and was vaguely decorated with south east Asian themes on the inside - which was mostly a lot of bamboo and long grass curtains, plus some Thai sculptures. Unfortunately, the effect was often ruined when you saw the bars on the window, and realized that the front door didn't really close properly.</p>
<p>But the food was phenomenal.  </p>
<p>Often when you first walked in, a small Thai woman would lift her head from the celebrity gossip rag that was always propped up in front of her and glare at you. Then without moving from her spot near the back she would yell at you to find a table, where you would wait patiently until she  eventually finished reading about Zak Effron’s abs, and would wander over with a couple menus.  </p>
<p>The first time Kurt had been to Thai Jasmine was about three weeks ago, when Dave had promised him a dining experience unlike any other. And, when Kurt first saw the restaurant, he was quite sure Dave was right. In fact, he figured that this would be his one and only experience at Thai Jasmine. And then he ate the food and fell completely in love.</p>
<p>So now, almost every time they ate out, or ordered in, Kurt would insist on Thai Jasmine - he’d even started making his family order from there. But, for Kurt, eating in the restaurant was the best - like right now, where they were sitting at a tiny table, tucked away at the back of the restaurant, beneath a shrine to the Thai royal family - it felt so different from anything else in Lima. Plus, the spring rolls were best when they were fresh. </p>
<p>As Kurt shovelled another deep fried spring rolled into his face, he heard Dave laughing softly at him. “You know we have like a shit ton of food coming, right?” Dave dabbed his skewer of chicken satay into the peanut sauce. </p>
<p>“I know...but their spring rolls are just so good.” Kurt’s voice was muffled - he liked how Dave never gave him crap if his table manners slipped occasionally. Actually, he liked how Dave did a lot of things...but not thinking about that now. </p>
<p>Dave smiled as he chewed. “I had no idea you could fit so much food in that skinny body  of yours.”</p>
<p>“Says the guy who once finished an entire plate of Pad Thai and five spring rolls.”</p>
<p>“Hey! I skipped lunch that day, remember.” </p>
<p>“I still don’t believe you.” Kurt pointed at Dave with a spring roll, trying not to laugh at the slight blush that rose in his friend’s cheeks. </p>
<p>“Well, fine then...don’t believe me. Hey, you want some of this?” Dave pushed the chicken skewers towards Kurt, “this peanut sauce is great!” </p>
<p>“Sure. Are you holding out for the curry?”</p>
<p>“Something like that.”  </p>
<p>“Are you ok?” Kurt put down his half eaten spring roll and leaned forward a bit. </p>
<p>“Yeah...I’m just trying not to eat as much.” Dave’s eyes refused to meet Kurt’s, which was always an indication that he was trying not to show too much emotion. And lately, Dave’s weight was always a point of emotion for him. </p>
<p>“Dave...I know you don’t like to talk about this, but you’re really not fat. Okay? You aren’t.”  </p>
<p>“Thanks. I’m working out - Finn’s been awesome with helping me do that. But some days I can’t do it, you know? Some days I just want to say fuck it.” </p>
<p>“And that’s okay!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I'm learning to realize that - I’m taking it one day at a time, like Dr. Anderson says I should. But thanks for saying that - that I’m not fat.”  Dave smiled at him, shyly.  </p>
<p>“It’s true - and I will go with you to get new clothes, you just have to say the word.” </p>
<p>“Maybe this week...I’ll think about it.”</p>
<p>“Good! Now, how’s everything else?”</p>
<p>“Good. My dad is happy I picked Georgetown, I didn’t think he was serious about moving, but he’s meeting with a realtor this week. And I heard him talking to someone at a firm in DC - he doesn’t know that I know that though.”</p>
<p>“Oh? That’s awesome!” Kurt attempted to stay entirely focused on Dave as he watched a bunch of plates and bowls filled with fragrant and almost sinfully delicious food began arriving at the table. He immediately pulled the bowl of green curry beef towards him.  </p>
<p>He was about to spoon and dangerously large helping straight into his mouth when he glanced up he saw that Dave was frowning down at his food.  “What’s wrong Dave?”</p>
<p>Dave sighed and closed his eyes. “I wish things were better for my dad.”</p>
<p>By now, Kurt should have some kind of certificate as a translator for Dave’s sighs - he knows pretty much exactly what each one means. He knows when Dave is sighing out of frustration or sadness or anger. And this one - this one is a guilty sigh. “I know, Dave. But he’s ready to leave - and he just wants to protect you. I’ve never seen someone as protective of their kid as your dad, not even my dad. And my dad is like an angry bear when it comes to me - your dad is like an angry bear that's genetically enhanced.” </p>
<p>“I know, Kurt. I just feel bad - like he’s uprooting his whole life for me. I know he’s been thinking about a change for a while - ever since mom left. But I just didn’t expect him to want to come to DC with me. And I love the image of dad with cyborg parts.”</p>
<p>“RoboPaul! And, really, I wouldn’t get upset about it - your dad is going to do what he’s going to do. He might really want this move too.” </p>
<p>“Yeah...he wouldn’t be doing it otherwise. It just makes starting college all the more...intense.”</p>
<p>“I bet. And, it is Georgetown for sure huh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah...I mean, I can’t really say no, can I? It’s the best school of all the ones I got into, and they’re giving me a really good scholarship. I’d be an idiot to not go.”</p>
<p>“Yes. You would be, plus New York and DC are so close together.”</p>
<p>“That thought had crossed my mind.”</p>
<p>“What else did your dad say?” Kurt had to try hard not to moan as he put a forkful of food in his mouth. </p>
<p>“He keeps telling me I don’t need to live at home - but I can, if I want to. And he even told me he’s kind of hoping that the dating pool in DC will be better - which was a weird conversation. I think he wants to move on completely from what happened and from my mom. I dunno...it’s weird, he seems happier lately since my mom decided to cut me out of her life.” Dave forked some of his pad thai into his mouth, his eyes wet and sad. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry Dave. Have you heard from her?”</p>
<p>“No. I don’t expect to either. She made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me as long as this..” Dave moved his arms up and down in front of him. “...is the lifestyle I chose to have. But dad is keeping the restraining order in place, just in case.”</p>
<p>“Bullshit...” Kurt muttered.  </p>
<p>“That’s one word I would use for it.” Dave smiled. “Okay! No more - I don’t want to cry into my food. Since you know that I said yes to Georgetown, you need to tell me if you sent in your acceptance to the Tisch School yet?”</p>
<p>“It was in the mail the minute I opened the envelope.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Dave rolled his eyes. “In like five years you’re going to be the star of some fabulous broadway show, with your name in lights.”</p>
<p>“Plus a record contract to record covers of the greatest songs of the Broadway stage.”</p>
<p>“I also expect to see a biography of you someday.”</p>
<p>“And what about you? I know we took sports agent off the table a while ago, is your dad still hoping for law school?”</p>
<p>“We’ll see...I’ve been thinking about med school actually.”</p>
<p>Kurt could feel his eyes widen in surprise. “I’m sorry...Doctor Dave?”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m good at science and stuff...and it would mean helping people. It’s just something I’m thinking about.”</p>
<p>“Dave...that’s amazing! Like really really amazing!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, we’ll see. I need to actually get to Georgetown first and then I can start to figure shit out.”</p>
<p>“Nope - in my mind you’re already wearing a white coat and running around with a stethoscope yelling ‘STAT’ at people.” </p>
<p>“I think there’s more to it than that.”</p>
<p>“Oh I know...I just like that image.”</p>
<p>“Well...um...thanks?” Dave blushed and tilted his head down. </p>
<p>“You’re quite welcome.”</p>
<p>Dave smiled at him as he helped himself to more Pad Thai. And once again, Kurt is struck by those feelings he’s been trying to keep forced down. Dave...looked happy. Even with all the sadness revolving around him. Even with his depression threatening to crush him. Even with all the disappointment in his life - his mother, his old friends, and himself to an extent...Dave still manages to smile. Still manages to think about his future plans. Still manages to be happy. And Kurt...loves him for it.   </p>
<p>Well, shit. </p>
<p>Suddenly, without realizing it, Kurt reaches over the table and grabs Dave’s hand. The other boy’s head shot up, his eyes puzzled. “Huh?”</p>
<p>Kurt just smiled at him. “I’m proud of you.”</p>
<p>“You keep telling me that.”</p>
<p>“I just don’t want to forget it.”</p>
<p>Dave’s fingers tightened around Kurt’s. “I never could.”</p>
<p>Kurt had to bite back the words that were sitting on the tip of his tongue. He felt like he was standing on a precipice and he was going to fly over the edge at any second. But if he did - if he gave into these feelings, what would be waiting for him at the bottom? He didn’t even know if Dave actually still felt the same as he did in February. He wanted so desperately to know how Dave felt about him. Wanted to know if those feelings of attraction were still there. Or if he was now just firmly planted in the category of friend. Which would be ironic really. </p>
<p>But could he ask? He had to think rationally about it! He had no idea what asking Dave that question would that do to them? Kurt didn’t want to make this awkward - Dave didn’t deserve this.</p>
<p>And then a single word floated into his head.</p>
<p>Blaine</p>
<p>As much as he hated to think about it, there still was Blaine.  </p>
<p>“Um, Kurt, can I have my hand back?  I’m still eating.”</p>
<p>“Oh, right. Sorry...”</p>
<p>“Are you ok? You keep acting funny.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine. Sorry...I won’t do that again. Just having an off day.” He blushed and turned his attention back to his food - just keep eating, pretend that nothing just happened.   </p>
<p>“Kurt?” Dave put down his fork and crossed his arms - staring across the table.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I tell you everything.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“When I’m upset, I call you to talk. When I’m happy you’re usually the first person I call. When I’m sad, nine times out of ten I call you crying. I tell you everything. So...” Dave made a circular motion in the air - clearly expecting Kurt to tell him what was going on. </p>
<p>“I...I...” Kurt looked back at his food. His appetite suddenly gone. He couldn’t do this - he should’t do that. This was bad, this was the wrong time. </p>
<p>“Ok, now I’m actually getting worried. Please tell me, what’s going on?”</p>
<p>Kurt looked up at Dave - who was watching him with sad worried eyes. Those beautiful hazel eyes that were so expressive and so kind. Kurt had wanted to get lost in them a hundred times. Oh god...he was going to do this. He is about to risk hurting Dave, but if he didn’t do it now...he wasn't sure he ever would. “Ok, you know how in The Hunger Games...Katniss keeps denying her feelings for Peeta? And then suddenly in the last book she’s all like ‘OMG! I totally love him...”</p>
<p>Dave looks even more confused, he shakes his head. “Um...that’s not exactly what happened, but sure.”</p>
<p>“I guess...I...I...” Kurt closed his eyes for a moment. What was he doing? This was insane! He should just make a joke - make a stupid joke and get them back to their dinner. </p>
<p>“Kurt...just tell me what’s going on. Please...”</p>
<p>He sucks in a deep breath and blurts out, “How do you feel...about me that is.”</p>
<p>“About you...um, well...you’re awesome. And I like spending time with you...you know that. I’m confused...”</p>
<p>“Do you still like me?” He’s fucking this up. This is not how he should be doing this. </p>
<p>“Like you...what are you talking about Kurt?” Dave was clearly getting frustrated. “Of course I like...wait...what exactly are you asking.”</p>
<p>“I think...I um...I think I might like you. In the non-platonic way.” Oh yeah, that’s real romantic - good lord Kurt!</p>
<p>Dave sat there, staring at Kurt, with a slightly dumbfounded and shocked expression on his face. He slowly picked up his fork and then put it back down. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Then he looked around, as if he was searching for something. He looked back at Kurt - a million emotions playing across his face.  </p>
<p>Kurt knew he had to wait until Dave spoke.</p>
<p>After what felt like a million years, Dave leaned a bit further over the table. “Is this a joke?”</p>
<p>“What? No...why would you think that?”</p>
<p>“Cause it feels like one. And it’s really not funny.”</p>
<p>“Dave...god, I’m sorry...I don’t want things to be awkward or whatever.”</p>
<p>“You gotta be joking right? Like some weird practical joke? Did Santana put you up to this?” Dave looks insulted now. Like Kurt had just called him ugly or fat or something. </p>
<p>“Dave...”</p>
<p>“I...need to call Dr. Anderson. What the fuck, Kurt!? Why would you do this...what would make you think this is funny...” His eyes are moving quickly across the restaurant - as though expecting someone to jump out of a corner with a camera. </p>
<p>“Dave!” Kurt snapped.</p>
<p>“What?” Dave snapped back, his wet eyes were angry and confused - unsure why his friend would be doing this to him. </p>
<p>“I’m not joking. I like you...I started liking you a few weeks ago. I’ve just been trying to ignore it...you’re my best friend. Which is weird, since we’ve only been hanging out for a few months...but I just can’t. I can’t ignore it anymore. God! What is wrong with me?”</p>
<p>“You’re really serious?”</p>
<p>“Yes. I’m serious. I think about you all the time. I miss you when you’re not around. When we’re together, all I want is to hold your hand, like all the time. I want to hug you and hold you and cuddle with you...and other things. And today, I think I’ve wanted to kiss you like a million times...”</p>
<p>“Kiss me?” Dave looked completely bewildered.  </p>
<p>“Yeah...”</p>
<p>“And you’ve felt like this for how...”</p>
<p>“A while now...”</p>
<p>“Wow...” Dave sits back, blinking rapidly. </p>
<p>“So...can you answer my question?”</p>
<p>“I can’t...”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Dave shakes his head, as though this is an impossible situation. “Because if I start to think about how much I like you...I feel like my brain is going to break. I feel like I’m just going to start sobbing...because I like you so much. And the only way I can get through a day sometimes is by keeping those feelings tightly locked away.”</p>
<p>“Well...that was an answer.”</p>
<p>“Kurt...What about Blaine? Because it looks like nothing has changed since February.”</p>
<p>“Ay, there’s the rub.”</p>
<p>“He reads Shakespeare, but not Jane Austen...”</p>
<p>“We’re having a serious conversation here...don’t do that...”</p>
<p>“Hey, you’re not the one in shock...I don’t know what I’m saying...” Dave actually gives him a smile. </p>
<p>“Dave...”</p>
<p>“Kurt, I like you. You have no idea how much. But this can’t be a thing if Blaine is still around...I can’t do that. I can’t handle that kind of drama right now. Of course, I don’t want to lose you...you’re my best friend.”</p>
<p>“You’re not going to lose me. I promise...”</p>
<p>“But what’s going to happen now? I mean...you dropped kind of a big bomb on me here.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know...but I had to tell you. I had to...I’m sorry if I made it awkward.”</p>
<p>“Stop apologizing...”</p>
<p>“That’s usually my line.” Dave frowns. </p>
<p>“I know...”</p>
<p>Dave was silent again. He stared down at the plates of food, his lips moving as though he’s uttering a silent prayer. “You ok?” Kurt asked softly.</p>
<p>Dave’s eyes don’t move from the plates in front of him. “You really like me? For real? This is really happening?”</p>
<p>“Yeah...”</p>
<p>“Fuck...”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>Suddenly, Dave’s head snapped up. “This is just not fair!”</p>
<p>“I know...”</p>
<p>“No. You don’t...you have no idea how unfair this is, Kurt! When I did everything I did for you in February, I had no idea Blaine was in the picture - but when you told me no because of Blaine, I was ready to put those feelings away...well, a lot of shit happened that kind of distracted me from them. But I stopped having hope. But now...this! Now you’re telling me I have a shot, but in reality I don’t because I will not let you cheat on Blaine.”  </p>
<p>Kurt just nodded. The anger and sadness on Dave’s face told him all he needed to know.</p>
<p>Dave glared at the table. He pushed the uneaten and cold Pad Thai away from him. “I’m not hungry anymore.”</p>
<p>Kurt racked his brain for something to say...but what exactly was there to say. Apologizing seemed redundant and useless. And there was no solution to be offered up. Kurt had essentially done the one thing he’d promised never to do - cause hurt. He’d managed to tell Dave that the one dream, the one fantasy that Dave so desperately held onto could be real...only it couldn’t. Because Kurt wasn’t single.</p>
<p>“Dave..I…” </p>
<p>“I think I’d like to go home, Kurt. Please...this has been a lot. And I’m suddenly really tired.” Dave’s voice sounds defeated.</p>
<p>“Yeah...I can get the bill.” Kurt lifted his hand to get the attention of a server, while he kept one eye on Dave, who sat there looking dejected and lost. And Kurt knew he wasn’t going to let Dave feel like that any longer than he had to. </p>
<p>
  <strong>-/- </strong>
</p>
<p>The inside of Kurt’s navigator was silent, as it had been for the entire drive back to Dave’s house. Kurt and Dave sat silently staring out the windshield, neither boy really able to say anything. Neither knows exactly what to say at this point. </p>
<p>Dave legitimately felt like shit. There's no other way to describe it - the moment Kurt had said that he liked Dave, there had been no controlling that little box that Dave kept buried. It was rushing back to the surface and it was bursting at the seams - threatening to bust open and knock him out with the strength of his feelings for Kurt. The fact that those feelings were reciprocated was just too much. The fact that he could kiss Kurt and it would be welcomed...felt like an inferno of knowledge in his mind. Threatening to overtake him. But no matter how badly he wanted it - no matter how badly he wanted to grab Kurt and just be with him, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even entertain the idea of letting something happen, because Kurt was not single. </p>
<p>And until he was, Dave wasn’t going to do a damn thing. That’s not who he was - he couldn't handle more drama. His emotional state could barely handle the day to day drama of being alive right now, much less some crazy romantic bullshit. </p>
<p>He glanced over at Kurt, who is staring intently at Dave’s front door, a set and unsure look on his face. Dave so badly wanted to know what Kurt is thinking and feeling. And oh god, there’s that thought again, the deep desire to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so badly his lips hurt from the very idea. </p>
<p>Fuck. How the hell did this happen?! How could Kurt like him!? </p>
<p>He sighs in the darkness of the car, which naturally draws Kurt’s attention to him. </p>
<p>“Dave - can I ask you a question?” </p>
<p>“Yeah.” </p>
<p>“What about Steve?”</p>
<p>“What about him?”</p>
<p>“He wants you to go out, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t that complicate things?”</p>
<p>“No, it doesn’t.” </p>
<p>“Why?” Kurt sounded confused. </p>
<p>Dave sighed again - he’s getting really good at sighing, it’s like a language with him now. “Kurt, if being with you is an option, then Steve doesn’t have a chance. I’ll pick you every time.” </p>
<p>“Oh, wow.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. Kurt...what are we going to do? Cause this changes a lot of things between us.”</p>
<p>“I need to figure things out…”</p>
<p>Dave reached out and took Kurt’s hand. “I really like you Kurt - so much. But if there’s even a chance for this to work. We need to be...responsible about it.” </p>
<p>Kurt nodded. “Can I hug you?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. Please...fuck I’m gonna cry.” Dave felt like his heart was breaking, when it should feel elated. </p>
<p>Kurt reached across the divider and pulled Dave into a hug, Dave let his head fall onto Kurt’s shoulder. He pressed his face into Kurt’s neck - soaking up the scent. He shivered slightly - this felt different. This wasn’t one of their usual hugs. It was...more poignant. He felt Kurt shaking slightly and knew that the boy was crying. </p>
<p>Slowly, they pulled apart. As Dave sat back, Kurt grabbed his hands, “I will figure this out Dave. I promise.” </p>
<p>“I know. Okay...I’m gonna go, before I do something stupid.” Dave gave Kurt’s hand another squeeze and got out of the car. He hurried to the front door, turning back to wave. He saw Kurt still sitting in the car, watching him. He needed to get inside - if he didn’t he was going to run right back to that car and kiss Kurt until they were both breathless. </p>
<p>He yanked open his front door and walked in. He felt numb - overwhelmed and at a loss of what to do. Normally, when he felt like this he would call Kurt and talk, but that wasn’t an option. He leaned against the door and willed himself to stay upright. Willed himself not to crumple into a sobbing mess until he got to his bed. </p>
<p>He toed his shoes off and stepped further into the hallway. His dad was sitting in the living room, reading a copy of Tales of the City with a beer in his hand. He looked up as Dave came in, clearly about to ask about Dave’s evening, the moment he looked Dave’s face, he was off the couch. </p>
<p>“Dave? What’s wrong?” </p>
<p>Dave just shook his head, he didn’t feel like having a crazy boy talk with his dad, he just wanted to lie down. “Nothing, dad. I’m just tired.” </p>
<p>“Dave?”</p>
<p>“It’s nothing dad. I’m gonna go lie down, please?” </p>
<p>His dad watched him for a moment, carefully searching his face for something - some indication that whatever was going on wasn’t going to lead to an ambulance or a hospital stay or another three months of worry and hurt and fear. Whatever his dad saw in Dave’s face was enough for him to step back and nod, “Okay - but you’ll tell me if it’s something bad right?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, dad.” Dave wasn’t sure if he could sound more down than he did right now. He tried to give a smile, but it died on his lips within seconds. He grunted and turned to go up the stairs. He could feel his dad’s eyes boring into his back the entire way. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title: Tomorrow will be Kinder, by the Secret Sisters (https://youtu.be/3rsD4orsMFw)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. My dad's a hero to me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Mentions of homophobia and attempted suicide</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t bother turning on any lights - he was in a melancholy mood, so he’d just wallow in the muted darkness of his room. Plus, if he turned on the lights, he'd probably see something that would remind him of Kurt and then he’d just start crying even harder. The slight glow from the hallway light was enough to illuminate the only thing he felt like looking at right now anyways - Dave grunted as he flopped down on his bed, gathering a pillow into his arms and stared at the mobile above his bed.  </p><p>The mobile was one of his favorite things in his room - it had been hanging over his bed for ten years now, and he was pretty sure that when he turned thirty, he’d still have it hanging over his bed. The model kits had been a birthday gift from his dad. He could remember, just after his seventh birthday, begging his dad to let him build all the mini planes by himself. Every day that summer he would get up, wolf down breakfast and then race out to the garage where his dad had set up a small table for him to build his planes. After months of careful gluing and getting his dad to help make sure the wings attached just right on every plane, they had devised the perfect way to hang the mobile.  </p><p>Dave could still remember the trip to the hardware store and the long talk his dad had had with the guys there about how to make the mobile strong enough to hold all seven planes. And then the amazing moment when his dad had used a ladder to hang the mobile above his bed.</p><p>After that, Dave would lie on his bed for hours and hours staring up at the planes as they slowly sun around in the air. He would imagine intense dog fights or crazy nose dives or amazing escapes with ejector seats that would send pilots spiraling through the air. He and Az even made up lives for the imagined little pilots of those planes - he remembered writing them all down. He wondered if he still has that old spiral notebook with all those stories. </p><p>
  <em>“Dave - when I grow up, I think I want to be a fighter pilot…” </em>
</p><p>He wondered what Az would say about all this - what stupid lame ass advice he’d get from the boy he once called his best friend. He’d probably roll his eyes and tell Dave to drive his dumb ass over to Kurt’s house and kiss the guy. </p><p>The mobile swung and light from the hallway glinted off brushed metal. He closed his eyes and tried to recapture the sense of wonder he’d once felt while lying here. It used to be that no matter how old he got, those planes were always a source of amazement and inspiration for him. After that day in the locker room with Kurt, he spent all night in his room just staring at them, wishing he could just get in one and fly away. When he was expelled they made him feel calmer - like maybe he’d be okay - and he’d tried to let them hypnotize him into letting go of his anger. After prom, he just allowed himself to be carried back to being seven years old and embrace the happiness those planes once brought him. Once, after coming home from Scandals - where some guy had essentially told him that he was the least attractive person on the planet - he’d envisioned being married to one of those imaginary pilots and how special he’d feel. </p><p>But then, after being outed and during the darkest days of his life, those planes suddenly stopped being quite so special. They started representing the loss of that innocent part of him. They became something that Dave would’ve done anything to get back - they were a part of an innocent life that no longer existed; they were what existed before he understood what it felt like to have someone tell him to die. And they were always just out of reach...a part of his past that he could no longer grab ahold of.  </p><p>That day, the day he tried to kill himself, those planes stopped meaning anything. And that meant that seven year old Dave was already dead. Because nothing would ever feel as good as building those planes again. He’d never feel happy again.  </p><p>And then there was today. Today, Dave needed them to help him calm down - he needed them to help him just take a breath. Because today, Dave heard the words he’d only dreamed of hearing. Today, the boy Dave had fantasized about had actually said he wanted Dave.  </p><p>
  <em>‘... I think I’ve wanted to kiss you like a million times…’</em>
</p><p>Those words had made him dizzy - even hearing them again in his head seems to make the world tilt on its axis. Dave shut his eyes...even the slow rotation of his planes weren’t helping to  calm him down. This was not happening to him. It just wasn’t. Kurt couldn’t actually like him. Things like this didn’t happen to him - well actually no, they did. This was exactly the kind of thing that happened to him. Of course, the boy he liked so much that it sometimes felt like a wound, would like him. And of course that boy wouldn’t be able to express it because that boy wasn’t single. Dave could feel even more tears building and starting to slide down the side of his face.  </p><p>Fuck.  </p><p>He rolled over and curled into himself, hugging his pillow. This was so unfair and Dave wasn’t sure how many more unfair things he could handle.   </p><p>He had just gotten used to the idea that he and Kurt would stay best friends. That his attraction for Kurt would never be reciprocated. And then...this. Dave pressed his face into the pillow. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted this to just go away - he wanted Kurt to take back all those words. Take back all the wonderful things he’d said tonight. Take back the gleam of hope that he’d given Dave and just reset everything back so they’d just be friends and would stay friends forever, because this was too hard!</p><p>He lay like that for a long time - thinking. Thinking about calling Dr. Anderson or thinking about going downstairs and eating the entire contents of the fridge. He tried to focus on his breathing and calm himself down - deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. Count to ten and do it again. Keeping his eyes closed, and just focusing on the breathing. </p><p>But every time he took another breath, he didn’t feel himself getting calmer or more centred. All he heard was, <em>“I think I might like you. In the non-platonic way.”</em> And it made him want to scream into his pillow.  </p><p>He lay there, curled around his pillow, trying to force himself to calm down, when his dad’s quiet  and worried voice shattered his nineteenth attempt to do his breathing exercise. “Dave?” </p><p>Dave couldn’t answer, he was pretty sure that any attempt to talk would just result in a very loud sob. He just hugged his pillow tighter - he didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even his dad. </p><p>“Dave...are you ok?” Paul’s voice sounded shaky and afraid, and Dave could tell he’d stepped into the room. </p><p>For a moment, Dave considered if it was always going to be this way. If how he was reacting was an effect of his depression - would he always feel things with this much intensity or would he one day be able to have a normal reaction. But what would a normal reaction be to having Kurt Hummel say I like you? Fuck. He just wanted to go to sleep...maybe if he stayed very silent and still his dad would go away and he could just pass out. </p><p>“David, I need you to answer me, please.” Paul had stepped up to the edge of Dave’s bed and had gently gripped Dave’s shoulder, but it was the naked terror in his dad’s voice that rattled him and forced him to respond.  </p><p>He lifted his head and rolled over, still gripping the pillow. Whatever his face looked like, it clearly upset his dad even more. “Jesus, Dave, what happened!?”  </p><p>Dave, knowing full well that his dad was not leaving him alone anytime soon, pushed himself up and sat crossed legged on the bed.  He wiped at his eyes and sniffled.  “Sorry...” He mumbled.</p><p>Paul dropped onto the bed, sitting next to Dave, but keeping his hand on Dave’s shoulder.  “What are you sorry about? Just tell me what’s wrong.” </p><p>“For scaring you. I didn’t mean to.” Dave’s voice was thick with emotion - first with the weight of having to deal with Kurt’s admission and now with the guilt of having scared his dad. </p><p>“Dave...what’s going on? This is really freaking me out.” </p><p>Dave paused. He realized that he was about to talk to his dad about boys. As supportive as his dad was, this was a boundary they’d never crossed before. Until now, the only thing they’d actually talked about when it came to Dave being gay was a general “I like boys” type of thing. This was more a “I like a particular boy” scenario. What if his dad totally freaked out? All the movies and books in the world might not be enough to stop his dad from completely rejecting him. Suddenly, he wanted to run - he wanted to get away. He stared at his dad, panic surging through his body. </p><p>“Dave, whatever it is - you can tell me. I‘m not going to freak out.”</p><p>Dave shivered and quietly said, “I was out with Kurt today.” </p><p>“Ok…did something happen? Did you run into someone - Azimio or…”</p><p>“No. It was just me and Kurt.” </p><p>“Okay, and you’re upset because...something happened?”</p><p>“Yeah...some...something happened...” He was crying full on now. </p><p>“Dave...what’s going on? You look completely devastated.”</p><p>Okay, just say it - just tell him. He’ll understand. He’ll be fine - everything that had happened in the past four months were like a giant neon sign saying, Paul Karofsky loves his gay son! He sucked in a hard breath, “Kurt just told me something. He, uh, told me he likes me.”</p><p>“Ah.” Paul sighed, relief washing over his face. “I assume this is some kind of teenage romance drama.”</p><p>“Dad...you don’t have to...”</p><p>“What? Talk about this with you? Of course I do! Or am I going to have to hear the usual teenage crap...go away. Don’t get involved in my life...blah blah blah. Well, guess what, you’ve had to listen to me moan and complain about all the stuff going on in my marriage for years, so I’m going to sit here and listen to you tell me exactly what is going on. So...spill.”</p><p>“You don’t mind talking about boys with me?”</p><p>“No. Now tell me! Let me do something normal, like give dad advice about dating!”</p><p>“You’re really not going to go away until I tell you what’s going on, are you?”</p><p>“Nope. And I have all the time in the world.” Paul twisted around on the bed, so he was leaning back against the headboard, with his legs stretched out. He looked at Dave, expectantly, with a pleased smile on his face. </p><p>Dave smiled back, relief emanating from every pore. There really was no way he was getting out of this - and suddenly he didn’t want to. This felt kind of awesome. “So, yeah, Kurt told me he liked me tonight.”</p><p>“Ok? You said that...” Paul raised his eyebrows. “And is that a bad thing?”</p><p>“It is when he’s not single...”  </p><p>“Ah...and you’re feeling sorry for yourself now, huh?”</p><p>“I do have depression, dad.”</p><p>“I know, Dave. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be feeling what you’re feeling, but I am saying that in the grand scheme of things this is not that major a thing.”</p><p>“Feels pretty major...”</p><p>“That’s probably because you’re eighteen and you’ve been to hell and back in the last few months, so everything feels just a little bigger and harder than it might normally. And I know how much you like Kurt…”</p><p>“How!?”</p><p>“I have eyes? Dave, I’ve spent a lot of time the last few months thinking about the last year or so, and a lot of things kind of started making sense to me when you came out. Your attitude last year, the way you targeted Kurt. I also did a lot of...checking into what happened in February, and found out a few things.” </p><p>“You investigated me?”</p><p>“I’m a defense attorney, Dave. It’s what I do. And yes, I did.” </p><p>“What…”</p><p>“What did I find out...well, I talked to the counsellors at Thurston and insisted they tell me how this happened. Apparently, the rumour was that someone saw you on a date with Kurt on Valentine’s Day. So I asked Kurt, and he was rather vague - but I filled in the holes myself. Plus, I managed to log into your bank account…” </p><p>“Dad!”</p><p>“I know...I just needed to know you were safe, Dave. I just needed to know what happened so I could keep you safe, okay? I didn’t snoop or anything, I just needed to know what was going on. And I saw lots of charges for stuff like flowers, Sees Candies and a six-hundred dollar rental for a gorilla costume - so I figured out something was going on. Then Burt told me that Kurt had told him someone was delivering gifts dressed as a gorilla. And it all clicked. You were wooing Kurt - and I have to admit, I was impressed. The costume was a nice touch.” </p><p>“Uh, thanks…”</p><p>“It was! I’m glad the romantic gene got passed down.” His dad actually sounded exceptionally proud of his son. </p><p>“Dad.” Dave tried to sound exasperated, but knew he also sounded pretty proud of himself. He let himself smile down at his feet - it had been a pretty awesome move. </p><p>His dad bumped his shoulder. “So, in February, you were trying to show your feelings to someone you liked a great deal, but then had to deal with the fact that you thought they had no interest in you. So you buried those feelings - and firmly kept Kurt in the friend-zone.”</p><p>“Yeah...and my whole life exploded like right after, so I just kind of forgot to think about Kurt and me liking him for a while.”</p><p>“Exactly. Dave, your whole world turned upside down back in February. Then you disappeared into yourself for a while, which was one of the scariest things I’ve ever gone though.”</p><p>“That was the Zoloft.” </p><p>“Yeah, I know - but still, Dave, you’ve spent so much time lately picking up the pieces of your life, and hurting because of what people have done to you that I’m honestly surprised you manage to even handle being around other people. So, I think everything that had nothing to do with your recovery and depression, they got pushed to the side. But now, that you’re feeling a bit better, you’re letting yourself feel a bit more. And that means, all your feelings might be a little extreme.”</p><p>“That could explain why I feel like throwing up when I think about Kurt liking me.”</p><p>“Right. Especially because you’ve just been told that something you’ve suppressed for so long, well it might not be so wrong after all. So you’re feeling crazy overwhelmed.” </p><p>“Emphasis on the crazy.”</p><p>Paul laughed softly, “You know you’re not crazy - we had that conversation.”</p><p>“Sometimes I feel a little crazy.” Dave leaned his head against his dad’s shoulder. “I just don’t know what to do, dad.” </p><p>“Well, I think you need to have faith in Kurt. If he does like you then he’s going to do something about his situation. And I think he does indeed like you.”</p><p>“You really believe that?”  </p><p>Paul readjusted himself, so he could reach over, throwing his arm across Dave’s shoulder, hugging him tightly. “Dave...again, I have eyes and I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve watched the two of you for months now...he was a friend when you needed one, but I could tell it was much more than just friends. Hell, a blind man could probably tell. ”</p><p>Dave rubbed his hands together. “I had no idea...”</p><p>“Exactly why you’re feeling overwhelmed. Because you needed to ignore it...to you, Kurt had to stay firmly in the friend zone, otherwise who knows what might have happened.”</p><p>“Like me sobbing on my bed?”</p><p>“That’s one example.” Paul laughed softly. </p><p>Dave shook his head slowly, this all felt so crazy to him. “How are you ok talking to me about stuff like this?”</p><p>“What boys? Easy, because you need me to.”</p><p>“You’re not uncomfortable?”</p><p>“Oh no, I’m insanely uncomfortable...but you’re more important. And I’m never letting you down again. Remember, you can talk to me about anything...except sex, I draw the line at sex, ok?”</p><p>“I can’t think of anything that I would rather do than talk to you about sex, dad.” He shuddered at the very idea of having to talk to his dad about sex - right now, Dave wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone about sex. </p><p>“Good! But can I give you a touch of advice?”</p><p>“Yeah...”</p><p>“First, just give Kurt some time, ok? But I think the amount of time you two spend together and how close you are, might not be helping matters. Maybe you two need to take a little break for a little while? Like do you think you could handle not seeing Kurt for a while?”  </p><p>“I can try.”</p><p>“Good. It’ll help you both get a little perspective. And I promise it’ll be okay. ” Paul sucked in a deep breath of relief - when he’d walked into Dave’s room and saw the huddled shaking mass of his son, he’d immediately flashed back to what he would forever consider the worst moment in his life. The moment  he’d walked into his son’s room and saw...Paul shuddered, forcing the memory to go away. He re-lived it far too often already - usually late at night, when he could cry into a pillow. For now, he’d focus on the warm weight of his son against his shoulder, “Now, since I’m here, can we talk about Washington?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah?”</p><p>“I just want to make sure you’re okay with going to Georgetown.”</p><p>“I sent in the acceptance last week, dad. Or did you forget me doing that?”</p><p>“No. I just want to make sure.” Paul grew quiet for a moment, his eyes captured by the slow revolutions of the mobile above Dave’s bed, tracking the slow movement of the planes. He seemed lost in thought. </p><p>“You okay, dad?”</p><p>“You know I’m talking to a realtor next week, right?” </p><p>“Yeah. You told me that.”</p><p>“I just want to be sure that you’re okay with me moving to DC with you, I know that starting college is a big deal, but it’s important to me that we both get out of this place.”</p><p>“Dad, we’ve talked about this. And yeah, I was a little weirded out at first, but I want us both to move together - I’m not ready to leave you behind yet. Plus, you said you still need to find a firm that’ll hire you.” </p><p>Paul fell silent again, his eyes still locked on the slowly moving mobile. Dave watched him, his dad had this weird look on his face - there’s something he wasn’t telling Dave. Based on the wistful look on his face, Dave assumes it isn’t anything terrible, but it’s something important. He prodded his dad with an elbow in the side, “Dad, everything okay?”</p><p>“Mmhmm. I’m just thinking about when we built that thing - you were so proud of it. I think you stayed in your room for like two days straight staring at it.”</p><p>“You sure there’s nothing else, dad?”</p><p>“No. I promise. Just in a thoughtful mood today, Dave.” Paul gave Dave another tight hug and then moved off the bed, he had a small smile on his face. “Okay, I’m gonna head back downstairs - if you felt like coming down and watching some TV, I’ll be there.”</p><p>“I’ll come down in a bit, dad. I think I need to call Kurt and talk to him first.” </p><p>“Good plan. Remember - time and space. It works wonders.” Paul paused in the doorway, turning back to look at Dave. “Dave?”</p><p>“Yeah dad.” His dad had this odd look on his face. </p><p>“I’m proud of you.” </p><p>“Uh, for what?”</p><p>“Just being you. You’re doing such a good job with everything, I’m just really proud of you, okay?” Paul felt a huge upswell of emotion rising in him - it felt, as it always, like this massive wave of love and sorrow over what his son had gone through. There were times when he looked at his son - so big and strong, but at the same time so vulnerable and shy - and all he wanted to do was hunt down everyone that had ever hurt Dave. He gave Dave the strongest smile he could. </p><p>“Thank you.” Dave’s small smile stayed on his face as his dad disappeared back down the stairs. He actually felt better. </p><p>His dad was right. If he kept a cool head about all this, which was easier said than done when his emotions were all over the place most of the time, then it might turn out okay. He had to trust Kurt - which he did implicitly. He had to focus on the fact that Kurt wanted him and not just the fact that Kurt wasn’t single. Because, in the grand scheme of things this wasn't the worst thing to happen to him. In fact, it might actually be the best. </p><p>He rolled over, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. If this was going to work - if they were really going to figure this out - then he needed to take his dad’s advice, and they both needed time and space. </p><p>He tapped Kurt’s name on his recent calls list and scowled when it went to voicemail, which was exceptionally rare these days. </p><p>Hi! You’ve reached Kurt - sorry I’m not around to answer your call, but leave a message and I’ll call you right back! </p><p>“Hey Kurt, it’s Dave. Can you call me - I’d like to talk.” </p><p>-/-</p><p>Dave was stretched out on the couch, an old rerun of Law &amp; Order was on the TV, and he was watching in amusement as his dad argued with the lawyers on the screen. He was about to ask his dad why he was getting so upset over whatever the fuck a demurrer was, when his phone started ringing. </p><p>“Hey dad, I’m going upstairs to talk to Kurt.” </p><p>All he got in response was a distracted wave. </p><p>Dave swiped to answer and started heading up the stairs. </p><p>“Hey Kurt. I’m just going upstairs.” </p><p>“Hey - sorry I missed your call, I was talking to Mercedes. What are you up to?” </p><p>“I was watching tv with dad.”</p><p>“Anything good?”</p><p>“Law and Order.” </p><p>“Was he yelling again?”</p><p>“Yeah - it’s worse when we watch CSI though.” Dave switched on the light in his room and flopped down onto his bed. “How’s Mercedes?”</p><p>“She’s okay, I didn’t really give her a chance to talk…”</p><p>“Do I get to ask what you talked about?” Dave had never felt this awkward talking to Kurt before - not even last year when it felt like they were mortal enemies.</p><p>“I...uh, I’m so sorry Dave.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“Making things awkward between us.” Kurt sounded like he’s on the verge of tears. “I don’t want us to be awkward.” </p><p>“I don’t that either Kurt, but we just need to figure out what we’re going to do.” </p><p>“I…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I wish I was there right now.” </p><p>Dave sighed and closed his eyes - never in his wildest dreams did he think this would happen. That Kurt would say something like that to him and mean it in the way he does. He wants to scream in frustration and yell in joy, all at the same time. He sucked in a breath - time and space, just remember, time and space. “Kurt…”</p><p>“Mercedes is worried I made you really upset - she might call.” </p><p>“Oh - okay. But Kurt we…”</p><p>“And I know that I really screwed up today, I know I shouldn’t have dropped that bomb on you out of nowhere, I should have been respectful and waited until we were somewhere safe for you and then talked it out. I’m so sorry Dave.” </p><p>“Thank you, Kurt. I wanted to say…”</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to do that. That’s the one thing I refuse to do and today I did it. I feel so awful Dave. But I know that I..”</p><p>“Kurt!” </p><p>“What? Oh god, I’m sorry, I cut you off.” </p><p>“I talked to my dad about it.”</p><p>“Oh. Was that…”</p><p>“Awkward, oh fuck yes it was awkward. But it was also great - he didn’t flinch once while talking about boys with me. And he said that I need to trust that you’ll figure it out - that you won’t just let this fester.” </p><p>“And I won’t Dave! I’m going to figure this out.”</p><p>“Yeah, and thank you. But I can’t see you until you do.” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Dave rolled over onto his side, tucking the phone up against his shoulder. He has to keep this under control - he can’t cry. He can’t break down and for god’s sake, he can’t do something stupid like confess his undying love or something idiotic like that. “I can’t see you - not until you figure something out. If you decide you want Blaine then we’ll go back to being friends - I might need to change a few things, like less cuddling or something - but we’ll deal. Or if you decide you want me, well I’ll be all over that. But until you figure it out, I can’t see you - because if I do, I’ll do something. I’ll kiss you or I’ll fall even harder for you or something. So I can’t see you. No visits. No movie dates. No phone calls. Nothing.” </p><p>“Dave...I don’t think I can do that.” </p><p>“We have to. I won’t let you cheat on Blaine! I can’t handle that. I can’t. Kurt I’ve spent most of the evening sobbing. I want to be with you - but I can’t be responsible for you hurting Blaine - it has to be a clean break, so you and I can have a clean start. Does that make sense?”</p><p>“Yeah. It does.” Kurt sounded so sad and lost.</p><p>“So, we have to stop. Just until you figure out what you want, okay? Please.” </p><p>Kurt is silent on the phone, just the sound of his quiet breathing. Then, ever so gently Dave heard Kurt start to cry. “I don’t want to lose you, Dave.”  </p><p>“You won’t, I promise.” </p><p>“I don’t think I can just not talk to you - we talk everyday. Can we at least text?” </p><p>Dave knows that texting is Kurt’s number one way of communicating - which means, it’s slowly becoming Dave’s number one way of communicating too. He also knows how powerful a text message can be - god does he know that. But it would keep Kurt at a distance...it would keep them connected, just not in the same room together. And he’d be able to censor his texts - like he does with Steve. “Okay. we can do that.” </p><p>The soft sob of relief was enough for Dave to nearly run down the stairs, jump in his car and speed to Kurt’s. He grips the sheets, forcing himself to stay lying down. He might be new at this whole dating thing, but he’s pretty sure that he’s reading Kurt’s signals loud and clear. But even so, what if Kurt changes his mind. “Kurt can I ask you something?” </p><p>“Yeah,” The voice on the other end of the phone was sad and soft. </p><p>“Are you really serious about this? You really like me - you actually want to be with me?”</p><p>There was a really long pause, and Dave can actually picture Kurt thinking about how to answer. He’s probably sitting on his bed, phone braced between his shoulder and ear, arms crossed but one hand is at his mouth - in all likelihood, he is chewing on one finger. It was a pose Dave had seen quite often. Then, as though he’s drawing the words out of a dream, Kurt says quietly, “Yes. Yes I am, Dave. But I need to be respectful of Blaine - I know this is going to hurt him, but I want to do this in a way that won’t destroy my friendship with him. But yes, Dave, I do like you - I really like you - and I’m going to figure things out.” </p><p>Dave lies on his bed, eyes closed, a broad smile on his face. He never thought he would get to hear those words, he never thought he’d hear Kurt say something like this to him. He sighed contentedly, “Thank you Kurt.” </p><p>He opened his eyes and turned his head. He can see the small cork board just over his desk - right in the middle of the board is a flyer for Pass and his smile shifted into a small frown. He thinks about Steve’s last message - dropping a very big hint about taking Dave to a 70s sci-fi retrospective  at some old theatre in Columbus next week. He sighed heavily. </p><p>“Dave? You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I just realized that if you’re going to have this talk with Blaine, I might need to have my own with Steve - only it won’t be as serious, cause I’ve barely known him a month.” </p><p>“Dave - if you don’t want to do this, if you want to see Steve…”</p><p>“I told you, if you’re in the picture, Kurt, he doesn’t stand a chance.” </p><p>“God…” Kurt breathed.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I shouldn’t say it - it’s not appropriate yet.”</p><p>“Will you write it down? That way you can say it when it is appropriate?”</p><p>“I will. Dave, how long do we have to not talk?”</p><p>“We can text, remember? And once you say you’re ready - I’ll be here. But I need you to take the reins, okay? I can’t…”</p><p>“This is hard.” </p><p>“But it’s the right thing to do. I...fuck…”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“I can’t say it - it’s not appropriate.” </p><p>“Write it down?” </p><p>“I will. Okay, Kurt...I’m gonna go. I guess...I’ll talk to you later?”</p><p>“I don’t want to hang up!”</p><p>“It’s not forever.” </p><p>“I’ll miss you. But I’ll text you.” </p><p>“I’ll miss you too, Kurt. And I’ll text you.” Dave is full on crying - it honestly feels like they’re never going to talk again. He clutches the phone as tightly as he can. “Goodbye Kurt.” </p><p>“Bye Dave.” </p><p>The call disconnects and Dave lay there, curled up on his side with tears slipping down his cheeks. He has no idea how long this break is going to be, but however long it lasts, he knew it’ll feel like forever. He already misses Kurt - and this time the missing feels deeper and more significant. It’s as though after all this time, being able to admit that he feels something for Kurt has allowed him to fall into a deeper pit of emotions. He thinks about all those corny love songs that he’s heard a million times watching old 80s and 90s movies on tv late at night. And he wonders if they were maybe onto something - “A whole life so lonely” - cause right now, without the promise of Kurt tomorrow, things felt rather lonely. </p><p>He unlocked his phone again, opening his messages, tapping on Steve’s name. He paused - he knew it was probably a dick move to do this by text, but really...he wasn’t sure he could do it otherwise. All the same, Steve was a nice guy - a really nice guy - and he didn’t deserve to just get a random text message. Sighing, Dave typed something that wasn’t going to make him seem too much like an asshole - <em>Hey - do you have some time to chat soon?</em> </p><p>He stared at the message for a long time, then closed the app without sending it. He knew that if he did send it right now, Steve would probably call almost immediately, and he just didn’t think he could handle anything else super intense tonight. </p><p>Dave sighed and pushed himself off the bed. Maybe he’d go see if they had any microwave popcorn and then convince his dad to watch that Too Wong Foo movie or something...hell, he’d even settle for more Law and Order, as long as it took his mind off this whole day. But first...maybe he’d take a shower.</p><p>*****************</p><p>Paul could hear Dave quietly walking around upstairs, there was the soft slam of a door and then the sound of Dave’s shower starting. Paul still had to resist the urge to run upstairs and ask Dave to keep the bathroom door open - just in case. That urge had been the strongest the week or so after Dave had come home from the hospital - he’d even managed to make it up to the first floor landing before making himself stop and think about what he was doing. </p><p>Because if he had asked Dave to keep the door open, Dave would have inevitably asked why. And other than a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, he could never really articulate it. But it was always there - this sense that Dave might do it again. Might try to hurt himself again. </p><p>It had become an obsession for Paul - in the days after Dave’s attempt, he had scoured the house until every possible implement was removed. Every knife in the kitchen was hidden. His razor blades - tossed in the garbage. Wire hangers - gone. Rope, ties, plastic bags, phone cords, computer cables...anything that Dave might think to use - Paul did away with. He even locked up kitchen appliances, because he suddenly envisioned Dave getting into a bath and tipping their old Kitchen Aid toaster into the water. </p><p>It was the moment when he was putting the toaster into the safe in the garage that he realized what he was doing. He stood there - holding the red and white toaster - and he knew none of this was going to help. He’d dropped the toaster on the ground and walked slowly up to his son’s room. Standing in the doorway to the room - staring at the upheaval that the paramedics had caused - that finally broke Paul. </p><p>It was there that Burt Hummel found him - lying, curled in the fetal position, on Dave’s bed. He’d been sobbing and screaming so loud that Burt had heard him from outside. Burt had used the spare key Paul kept in a fake rock in the front garden, and had raced into Dave’s room, dropping onto Dave’s bed and trying to calm Paul down. </p><p>
  <em>“You need to breathe, Paul! Please - try to breathe.”</em>
</p><p>He’s not entirely sure what he would have done that week without Burt. Burt stood by him every second of that horrible week. He was there after Paul had to face every discussion about antidepressants, or when Paul couldn’t stop worrying about potential brain damage from lack of oxygen. Or when Paul had to face down his ex-wife, who was hell bent on praying her son’s gay away. And he was right by Paul’s side when he went to battle with the small minded bigots at Dave’s school. Plus, Burt and Carole’s quiet reassurances helped quell the burning sense of paranoia Paul had over Dave’s mental state. </p><p>And the day his ex-wife and her church crony had come to take Dave, Burt had been there to hold Paul back. He’d been there to stop Paul from doing something utterly stupid. He’d gotten Paul to the police station, helped him see reason and set up a restraining order, rather than pound the asshole’s face in. And again, the day she’d decided to completely erase Dave from her life, Burt had appeared yet again - offering quiet reassurances, finding ways to divert Paul’s rage.</p><p>Burt Hummel was the very definition of a best friend - something Paul needed more than he could ever possibly explain. </p><p>Paul, frowning at the now muted television pushed himself off the sofa and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing his cell phone and another beer. He didn't really relish the idea of having to make this phone call, but Burt needed to know what was going on. He needed to prepare himself for whatever high school drama was about to descend on his house. </p><p>One of the best parts of the entire situation - next to how close he and Dave had become - was the bond Paul and Burt had formed. They’d become a team - much like how their sons had become a team. And over the past few weeks, both men had noticed the intense closeness their sons shared. A closeness that sent up a lot of signals - some good and some bad. And immediately, they’d promised each other that if anything happened between the two boys, they would find a way to weather it together. Plus, Paul needed all the help he could get! At least, Burt had a tiny bit of experience with his gay son dating, but Paul’s anxiety over Dave’s first boyfriend was immense.</p><p>He dialed a number that he already knew by heart and leaned against the counter, sipping his beer. The phone rang once before Burt’s gruff voice filled his ear. “Hey Paul.”</p><p>“Hey Burt. How’s it going?”</p><p>“Well, my son came flying into the house almost in tears, after going to the movies with your son, and has now locked himself in his room and is playing Wicked so loud that I can’t hear the TV. But he can somehow have phone conversations over that noise.” </p><p>“And my son came in and lay in his bed sobbing for a good part of the evening. And now, he’s taking one of his two hour long showers.” </p><p>Burt sighed as though he’s dealt with this a million times. “So, I guess our boys have finally admitted what everyone else could see, huh?” </p><p>“Something like that. According to Dave, Kurt dropped it on him tonight and Dave went into a tailspin.” </p><p>“He's okay?” </p><p>“Yeah - I think Dave just feels things a bit more intensely right now. We talked it out and he’s okay now.”</p><p>“Wait does that mean you had your first boy talk? Did it go okay? I’ll never get used to it.” </p><p>“Yeah, it was okay. I mean I felt really awkward. But I muddled through - told him that he and Kurt needed some time apart to figure things out.” </p><p>“I’ll probably tell Kurt the same - when I can go in his room without my eardrums bursting.” </p><p>“Well, you could do worse than loud music - I’m facing at least an eight hour marathon of Star Wars. Actually, I have no idea what I’m facing - besides that Santana girl, Dave’s never even been on a date before.”</p><p>“Just do what you do best, Paul, be supportive and listen to him. Although, lord knows how long all this is going to go on for. I don’t think I have enough beer to get through this.” </p><p>“And, they haven’t even started dating yet. I feel for that Blaine kid.” </p><p>Burt huffed a small laugh. “He’d be an idiot if he didn’t see this coming. But then again, he’s a bit of an idiot anyways.”</p><p>“You really don’t like him, huh?”</p><p>“I just think Kurt can do better.” </p><p>“Let’s hope Dave fits that category.” </p><p>“He does - that boy has come a long way since last year, I’m proud of him. Worried for him, but also proud of him.”</p><p>“I am anxious about him dating - I might encourage him to talk to his doctor about it.”</p><p>“Dave’s a smart boy - he’ll know how much he can handle, but yeah talking to his doctor is a good idea. And have you told him about your interview yet?” </p><p>Paul pursed his lips. The interview, which he’d come so close to telling Dave about earlier this evening, was coming up in ten days. He probably should have told Dave that he’d already applied to a bunch of law firms in each of the cities where Dave had thought about going to school. This particular firm, which luckily enough was in DC, was a great firm. And they wanted him as a partner. But so far, he hadn’t told Dave a damn thing about it. “No. Not yet. I don’t want him to freak out.” </p><p>“Why would he freak out?” </p><p>“Because he’s Dave. And I don’t want to upset him - I know he’s okay that I’m moving with him, but if I get the job, there’s a chance we might move a lot sooner than he probably expects.” </p><p>“And if he starts dating Kurt, he might not be so willing to leave until he absolutely has to.” </p><p>“Burt...I want him to be happy and date a boy he likes, but I also want him to keep the big picture in mind. I just want to get him out of this damn town.”</p><p>“Hey! We’ve talked about this - if the boys start dating, they have to deal with the fact that they won’t be in the same place longer than a couple months. I want Kurt to get to New York just as much as you want Dave out of this place. They’ll be okay - Dave will be okay with this.” </p><p>“I just don’t want to screw things up for him.” </p><p>“You won’t. I promise.” </p><p>“Thanks.” Paul sipped his beer. “How do you feel about beers at Mulligans tomorrow?” </p><p>“Please! Finn is having Rachel over and that girl is…” </p><p>“Overwhelming?” </p><p>“In a word. So yes, let’s go drink and eat food that Kurt would lecture me about.” </p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>“Okay, it sounds like the music has finally stopped, I’m gonna go talk to my son.”</p><p>“Remember - they need time and space.” </p><p>“Got it. I’ll see you tomorrow - I can swing by around one?” </p><p>“See you then. Bye Burt.” Paul hung up and dropped his phone back on the kitchen counter. He could still hear the shower going and had to quell the urge to go check on Dave - just make sure he was still...alive, which was a terrible thing to think. He knew Dave didn’t have those feelings anymore - he knew that Dave wanted to keep living, keep breathing. So Paul pushed down his paternal instincts and walked back into the living room and dropped back down onto the couch - un-muting the TV. </p><p>As Mariska Hargitay burst into someone’s apartment on the TV, Paul grabbed his laptop and pulled up the webpage for the law firm in DC. He needed to tell Dave about the interview soon - needed to tell his son, who had just started to get his life back on track, that it was about to go through yet another major upheaval. </p><p>But Paul had every intention of weathering that upheaval for Dave - he had to. DC meant a new life for Dave. It meant a new group of friends who would have no memory of a Dave as a suicide survivor. It meant getting Dave away from the haunting memories of people who hurt and abused him. Of getting him away from a mother that could not see past her own bigotry to embrace her son. It meant a space for Dave to grow and mature and be ready to face a life that was all his own. Which was just not something Paul saw Dave finding while he was still in this fucking hick town.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title: Not all Heroes Wear Capes by Owl City (https://youtu.be/HNAM2EVXH9A)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. There ain't no fixing this, but I like that you tried</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings - mentions of suicide attempt, accusations of infidelity</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kurt paced the hallway - glaring at the closed door to his step-brother's room. Although he had no real reason to actually be upset over Finn having his door closed, he just felt like they really should have an open door policy, especially as brothers. He didn’t want to just barge in there - like some tyrant, making demands of Finn - that would be extremely rude. But he also didn’t really want to just knock - that felt needy and he didn’t want to seem needy. </p><p>But still - he was kind of certain that Finn might have the answers he was looking for. Because he needed answers - he needed advice. He needed someone to help him figure out this whole ridiculous situation - he needed to figure out a way to break up with Blaine, only he had to do it without causing a disaster. </p><p>Although, if he was being totally honest, everything already felt like a disaster. Seven days ago, he’d finally admitted to himself that he liked Dave - unfortunately, rather than approach that realization like a reasonable person, he’d done the stupid thing and immediately confessed his feelings to Dave. Which had clearly sent Dave into a total tailspin and resulted in Dave establishing an almost complete non-communication clause in their relationship. So, other than texting, he had not spoken to his best friend in seven days. For seven days, he’d not been allowed to talk to the one person who made his heart flutter dramatically. </p><p>And he was sick of it. </p><p>For the past week, all he’d done was talk to various people about what he should do. Mercedes had screamed “FINALLY” and then spent an hour berating him for telling Dave in the way he did. He also knew that Mercedes had essentially replaced him as Dave’s constant companion this week - which stung, like a whole lot. Sam, meanwhile, had insisted on a fist bump and said, “Go get that hot ass, Kurt!” </p><p>Tina had been no better and had screamed, “I need to go check on Dave!” Santana had laughed and suggested he buy some wet-naps cause Dave looked like he’d be a real big shooter. </p><p>Kurt shuddered, remembering how hard he’d blushed and how turned on he’d been at the thought of getting naked with Dave. Which, if he was being honest with himself, might have been the final straw in getting him to actually do something about this whole love triangle situation. But he still had no idea how to properly do this.</p><p>Well, he knew how to do it. He knew the fundamentals of breaking up with someone, but he was essentially leaving Blaine for another guy, and he just didn’t want to do it without being at least a little empathetic. He didn’t really know what he should say. Which brought him to his current situation and why he was going to the ultimate authority on this kind of thing - Finn. </p><p>Finn had to know what to say - the guy had been circling between Rachel and Quinn for years. Often leaving one girl for the other, so if anyone knew what to do, it had to be him. </p><p>Kurt sighed and finally walked up to Finn’s door, knocking as he pushed the door open. “Finn, can I talk to  you for a...minute?” The sentence barely got out as he took in the horror show that was happening on the bed in front of him - his brother was lying, shirtless and spread eagle, on the bed with Rachel - clad only in a bra - straddling his hips. Their lips were locked together so intensely that it looked almost like she was sucking the life right out of him. </p><p>The moment Kurt stepped into the room, Finn nearly leapt off the bed, with a strangled “KURT!” As he jumped up, he managed to toss Rachel right onto the ground next to the bed - she landed with a loud “Umph!” and quickly scrambled to grab a blanket and cover herself - her entire body turning a deep shade of magenta. </p><p>Kurt stood in the doorway, hand still gripping the door knob, his face a mask of horror and shock. He wished - quite badly - that Dave was here right now. Dave would probably just start laughing or he might make some kind of lude comment that would break the tension. Finn kind of stood in the middle of the room - his eyes flicking around, not really landing on anything - as he stammered out a stream of nonsensical apologies. </p><p>Finally, after what felt like an exceptionally long time, Rachel, as if this situation was the most natural thing in the whole world, softly said, “Finn, put a shirt on. Kurt what can we do for you?” Finn immediately grabbed a shirt and pulled it on - he also fumbled to do up his jeans at the same time. </p><p>Kurt sighed - he would process the insanity of this moment later, and possibly rewatch that awful Total Recall movie Dave liked to see if it had any hints about scrubbing his memory. But for now, he just needed to get through this. He was doing this to get to Dave. Anything would be worth it, if it meant being with Dave. “I need help.”</p><p>Finn plopped down on the edge of the bed, and tried to give a supportive and utterly normal smile - as if having Kurt walk in on him havig sex was an everyday occurance, “Sure! What’s up.” Rachel, enrobed in Finn’s quilt, also climbed onto the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, shifted so she was closer to Finn. “Yeah, Kurt - what’s wrong?”</p><p>“I, uh, well...I finally admitted to liking Dave...well...I don’t know how to break up with Blaine.”</p><p>Finn looked confused for a moment, he frowned. “Kurt...does Dave feel the same way?” His voice had a protective edge to it, which Kurt knew was for Dave. Finn had proved more than once that if you mess with Dave, you mess with Finn Hudson.</p><p>“Yes, Finn - trust me, he made it very clear that he likes me back.” </p><p>The smile that Rachel gave him was absolutely brilliant - “Kurt! That’s fantastic! Well, not for Blaine, but I’m so excited for you and Dave!”</p><p>“Uh, thanks Rachel - I’m really happy too, well at least I will be once I figure out what to do.” </p><p>“So, uh, dude...what do you need us for? Just go over and tell Blaine.” </p><p>“But what do I say?” </p><p>Finn and Rachel looked at each other, Finn shrugged. “Not sure what to suggest, Kurt...like you just gotta tell him.” </p><p>Kurt huffed, his annoyance at the situation settling in again. “Well, I’m sorry if  I’m being a bother, but I’ve never done this before, ok?”</p><p>“Dude...it’s cool. I just don’t know how to give you a tutorial on breaking up with someone.”</p><p>“Just tell me what I should say...”</p><p>“Kurt,” Rachel interjected, “you can just say that your feelings have changed.” </p><p>“That sounds cheap…”</p><p>“What about, It’s not you, it’s me?” Finn gave him a hopeful smile, “That one’s always getting quoted in movies and shit.”</p><p>“Finn...I am not going to give Blaine a cliched line like that. That’s not fair.”</p><p>“Well...maybe you won’t need to say anything. Maybe he already knows?” Rachel was hunting around on the bed, searching for her sweater. “I mean - it is a bit obvious that you and Dave have become incredibly close.” </p><p>“I doubt that.” Kurt had moved over to Finn’s desk chair and plopped down. </p><p>“You’re joking right?” Finn laughed at how seriously Kurt seemed to be over the idea that Blaine was ignorant of how Kurt’s feelings had changed. “I mean I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Blaine around here in the last few months, and I lost count how often Dave is over. Maybe he’s already figured it out. And you and Dave can’t stop touching each other - dude, you’re practically boyfriends already!”</p><p>“That’s not helping Finn. And even if Blaine has figured it out, I can’t just not say something to him...I have to talk to him and try to explain things. Rachel - what would you do if you were me?”</p><p>“Well, my naturally romantic nature would encourage me to do it in song - there are a number of excellent breakup songs. It would be rather poetic to end it with a song, since that was how it all began for you two. I mean this is the end of your first epic love story and the start of your second. Oh! And we should get the whole group together to choreograph a number that you can perform for Dave.”</p><p>“Rachel! Dave would be mortified if I did that - and I’m pretty sure he’d book the next flight to tibet and become a monk - you know he hates being the center of attention.” </p><p>“Well, I still think it would be nice.” </p><p>Kurt sighed - dropping his head into his hands. “This feels impossible.” He missed Dave and he felt like such a tool. </p><p>“Kurt - can I ask you a question?” Rachel asked quietly. </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“What do you want to do?” </p><p>Kurt lifted his head and pursed his lips - what did he want to do? He wanted to drive to Dave’s house and cuddle against that big, warm beefy body and feel Dave’s arms wrap themselves around him. What he wanted to do was go to Dave and kiss him - kiss him like it would save the world. What he wanted to do was go be with Dave. But he couldn’t do that unless… “I want to see Dave, but he won’t let me unless I figure out this whole thing with Blaine first.” </p><p>He listened while Rachel and Finn started arguing over the perfect way for him to break up with Blaine, only nothing they said were helping matters at all. Sighing, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Dave. <em>So, I totally just walked in on Finn and Rachel almost having sex - this is the worst timeline. How are you?</em></p><p>He set his phone back down and saw that both Finn and Rachel were staring at him. “What?”  </p><p>“Dude...why don’t you just tell Blaine the truth.”</p><p>“That’ll hurt him.”</p><p>“And you think coming up with some fancy story to tell him won’t?” Rachel shook her head. “Kurt, I know this is weird...but if you really do want Dave, then you’re going to have to do the hard thing and tell Blaine about you and Dave.”</p><p>“I know.”  Kurt sighed. His phone beeped with a new text message. </p><p>I<em>’m sorry - you what? I want details! That’s some funny shit! And you made a Community reference! I’m so proud! I’m lying on the couch, reading while dad yells at CSI...he’s getting a little too into all this murder. It’s a very exciting afternoon.</em></p><p>Kurt smiled. He could see the face Dave was making - it was boyish and adorable and all around sweet.</p><p><em>I’m not reliving that trauma for your benefit! What are you reading? And are you sure you’re dad’s not some crazy serial killer?</em> Kurt tapped send. Then stared at the text message - it felt false. Like it wasn’t the full emotion that he wanted to convey. He didn’t want to just joke with Dave. He didn’t want to just pretend that everything was normal between them - it wasn’t normal. He wanted to be with Dave! He typed out a second message - <em>I miss you.</em> And pressed send.  </p><p>Dave must have been posed to reply as less than fifteen seconds later, he replied - <em>I miss you too. So much.</em>  </p><p>And right there - at that moment, Kurt knew. He looked back up into the faces of his brother and one of his best friends. He nodded. “I have to tell him the truth. Anything else would just cheapen what we had and it'll cheapen what I’ll have with Dave. I need to just be honest.” He sent Blaine a text - <em>Can we meet up.  Please. I need to talk to you.</em> Honesty.  It was what Blaine deserved. And it was what Dave deserved too.  </p><p>***************</p><p>Dave couldn’t help but feel giddy - and giddy was not exactly an emotion that Dave was known for. He could be happy. He could be excited. He could be pleased. He could be a lot of things...but the word ‘giddy’ just didn’t really seem to apply to him. Ever.  </p><p>So, to be sitting on his couch and feeling ‘giddy’ because there was a boy who wanted to date him...well it was just a really weird sensation. But as weird as it was, he sure as fuck wasn’t about to give it up.</p><p>Dave stretched out on the couch, letting his copy of Redshirts fall onto his chest, and tried not to give in to the intense desire to break the agreement he and Kurt had come to. WIth every text message they exchanged, Dave had to sometimes physically stop himself from getting in his car and speeding over to Kurt’s. But he wouldn’t - time and space was working for them. He was sure of it. And although Kurt had not made a single move to deal with Blaine, as far as he knew, he was also sure that Kurt was going to make things right. And the moment Kurt did, well he’d be over there faster than the Millenium Falcon on the Kessel Run. </p><p>Grunting, he turned his head to watch as his dad leaned forward, grumpily, in his chair. Waving his arms and yelling at some blond guy on the tv - “There is no fucking way that would hold up in court, you blond idiot!” Paul Karofsky’s voice got very high pitched as he waved his beer bottle in the air, sloshing some over his hand. </p><p>“Dad - if you hate this show, why do we watch it so much.”</p><p>“I don’t hate this show Dave, it’s actually one of my favorites.” </p><p>“Riiiiight… Could’ve fooled me.”</p><p>“You don’t have to watch it with me...OH FUCK OFF! These idiots just don’t understand the law! And DNA does not work that way, GRISSOM!” Paul nearly leapt out of his chair, once again sloshing beer over his hand. Dave just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his phone. Re-reading Kurt’s last few messages. </p><p>Kurt missed him - that much was obvious. And Kurt was sending him flirty text messages, which meant that Kurt was actually treating him like a guy he was interested in. A fact that still utterly floored him, and he loved it! </p><p>In the week since Kurt had bluntly said “I like you”, Dave had pretty much gone through all the stages of grief - denial that any of this was real or happening. Anger over how fucking unfair it was that Kurt liked him and he liked Kurt, but Kurt wasn’t fucking single - fucking Blaine. Bargaining, cause he figured that if maybe he went to Blaine’s house and bartered something, he’d let Dave have Kurt - he did have that 1977 Darth Vader action figure. Depression, which was obvious as Dave was already clinically depressed and the whole situation with Kurt just made him sad - happy, but also sad. And then acceptance over the fact that while they loved...er liked each other, they were just destined never to be together. </p><p>But then Kurt kept texting - and those texts showed a level of interest that definitely suggested he did want Dave. So, despite apparently going through some weird psychological process to accept his fate, Dave actually started to let himself believe it was real. Kurt...fuck, Kurt did want him, romantically. That this was not just some strange waking dream that Dave was trapped in.  </p><p>No. It was real.</p><p>And yeah, of course, that meant that Kurt’s boyfriend was also still very real. But maybe, just maybe, Kurt would find a way to change that. But until he did, Dave was firmly sticking to his decision that they couldn’t hang out. Mainly because Dave just didn’t know if he could control himself, especially since he knew he could touch Kurt and it would be welcomed. And so, Kurt and Dave had spent the last week apart.  No phone calls, no visits, no skype...nothing. Except for texts. </p><p>And man, did they text. Like all the fucking time. All day long...informational texts, cute texts, funny texts and flirty texts. Dave even found he could flirt with Kurt - that it felt natural and fun. Unlike his piss poor attempts at even trying to flirt with Steve - back when Steve was still a thing. </p><p>Three days after Kurt’s admission - probably around the time Dave was entering the bargaining stage of dealing with Kurt’s revelation - Dave had sucked it up and been a very brave boy by asking Steve out for coffee. To tell him that any coffee dates were only going to be coffee dates between friends. </p><p>
  <em>“Steve, I just want  you to know - I think you’re great, but…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is it Kurt?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is what Kurt?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did you two finally figure out that you’re not just friends?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Uh...yeah.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Bummer for me - cause I think you’re pretty great - but yay for you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re not mad?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Are you happy?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“God yeah.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Then I’m not mad! But I’d still like to hang out as friends - if you’d like.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I would - I really would!” </em>
</p><p>And so Dave found himself with an almost boyfriend, while being constantly surrounded by awesome friends that just kept wanting to make sure he wasn’t wasting away from loneliness without Kurt. </p><p>Dave flicked through his texts - it felt like hundreds had come in over the last seven days, and not just from Kurt. Mercedes and Tina - who rarely left his side during the week - had just invited him over for movies on Sunday, Come over tomorrow - we’ll watch movies and not a single rom com in sight! </p><p>Finn had added him to a group chat about video games - which was mostly Sam trash talking and Puck being perverted. But they did their best to help distract Dave. Santanta was mostly encouraging Dave to quit being a pussy and Just go over there and slob on his knob! He’ll forget all about Frodo! Which had made him blush - and furiously jack off - at the idea of giving Kurt a blow job. </p><p>Steve, meanwhile, had been the most reasonable - encouraging Dave to stay the course and let Kurt deal with Blaine. They talked almost everyday - usually about nerdy stuff, but also about being a gay jock. And Steve’s friendship was really helping - it made him feel even more confident. The more he talked to Steve, the more they realized they wouldn’t have ever worked as boyfriends - they were essentially the same person. But he did make for one awesome friend. </p><p>Dave felt his phone vibrate with a message. He glanced at his dad, who was still grumbling about blood spatter patterns. He shook his head and looked at his phone - Kurt. Sometimes his face hurt from smiling so much when they texted</p><p>
  <em>So, I totally just walked in on Finn and Rachel almost having sex - this is the worst timeline. How are you?</em>
</p><p>Dave shuddered at the very idea of having to witness… that. Although, he knew how fucking awkward Finn could be, so he assumed that whatever reaction Kurt had gotten would probably have been hilarious. Also, he was clearly having a really good impact on getting Kurt to embrace the nerdier things in life - like, hello Community! </p><p>He quickly typed back, <em>I’m sorry - you what? I want details! That’s some funny shit! And you made a Community reference! I’m so proud! I’m lying on the couch, reading while dad yells at CSI...he’s getting a little too excited about all this murder. It’s a very exciting afternoon.</em></p><p>Fuck - this was ridiculous, he felt all warm and squishy inside just texting Kurt. What was it going to be like when they could be flirty and act like boyfriends in person? He kinda figured he’d pee himself a little the first time he actually got to kiss Kurt. A lazy goofy grin settled on his face as he thought about it. </p><p>Kurt replied almost instantly - <em>I’m not reliving that trauma for your benefit! What are you reading? And are you sure you’re dad’s not some crazy serial killer?</em></p><p>Dave snorted softly and glanced at his dad, who was shaking his head as some guy bashed a dead pic with a golf club on tv. Dave posed his fingers over the keyboard. Then another message showed up - and his heart stopped for a second. </p><p>
  <em>I miss you.</em>
</p><p>This was the one message that Dave had desperately wanted to send - words that he so badly wanted to say. But Dave had refused to. He’d refused to even think about how badly he missed Kurt, because if he did it would hurt like a bullet wound. But now that Kurt had broken that dam - Kurt had taken the first step and said it first, well now there was nothing to stop him from saying it back - right? So, Dave gave in.  </p><p>
  <em>I miss you too. So much.  </em>
</p><p>There...it was out there. He’d said it. And as he expected, the only thing he wanted to do now was get in his car and drive over to Kurt’s and just hug the crap out of him. Or kiss him. Or take Santana’s advice. But he couldn’t...he wouldn’t push Kurt. That was entirely the wrong thing to do! Kurt had to move at a pace that was right for him.  </p><p>But that didn’t mean Dave couldn’t keep hoping things would just start moving. </p><p>He sighed as his phone vibrated again.</p><p>
  <em>I wish I was there with you.  </em>
</p><p>Dave smiled - he so badly wished Kurt was here right now. He closed his eyes and wondered what they would be doing. Would they be in his room, watching a movie or talking - or maybe making out? Or would they be watching bad tv with his dad? Kurt actually loved watching tv with Dave and his dad - said it was much more entertaining than watching tv at his house. God, he missed Kurt. He wrote back quickly, fingers trembling, <em>I wish you were...I’m starting to suffer from cuddle withdrawal.</em>   </p><p>He hoped that was not too suggestive or forward, but that it was just the right amount of flirtatious. But it also was kind of true - he missed holding Kurt’s warm body in his arms. He tugged a pillow from the top of the sofa and hugged it - wishing it was Kurt as his phone vibrated again. <em>We’re going to have to do something about that. Can I call you later?</em></p><p>Oh! What did that mean? Could it possibly mean...was it actually happening? <em>Call me? But we said no calls...</em></p><p>The response was nearly instantaneous - <em>I’m going to see Blaine this afternoon.</em></p><p>Dave swallowed thickly. Oh fuck, it was happening. By the end of the day, he might have his first boyfriend. He looked down at his phone and whimpered. <em>Yes! Please call me.</em></p><p>Dave’s stomach actually lurched and he dropped his phone onto the floor next to the sofa. Holy shit. It could actually be happening. A sense of absolute terror threatened to come crashing down around him. How the hell was he going to get through the rest of the day!?</p><p>He could text Mercedes to come over, or Finn - no, Finn was out. He was doing sex stuff with Rachel, which still weirded Dave out! Okay, maybe he’d call Steve, just to distract him for the rest of the afternoon! Or he could get his dad to do something - something other than lie on the couch and watch TV. </p><p>Dave turned his head and watched his dad flipping through channels, trying to find something else to watch. “Dad, I thought your plan was to watch that all-day CSI marathon?” </p><p>“It is, but there’s like fifteen minutes before the next one.” </p><p>Dave pursed his lips - a move that many of his friends had started noticing was an exact imitation of a typical Kurt expression. “I can't believe I’m saying this, but I think you watch too much TV, dad.” </p><p>Dave rolled onto his side, giving his dad a worried look. Ever since Dave had come home from the hospital in February, his dad very rarely went out on weekends - and he certainly didn’t go out with friends, except for Burt. Mostly, his dad stayed in and read, watched tv or movies and drank beer. Oh, and watched nervously over Dave. Plus, Dave had started noticing that his dad was packing on some major weight, and of course, Dave was sensitive to weight gain. But his dad’s usual linebacker build was settling more into stay puft marshmallow man territory - which worried Dave. And while Dave had his antidepressants to blame for his own weight gain, his dad’s was due to the amount of beer he’d been drinking and the massive quantities of chips and junk food he’d seen his dad consume lately - something that never used to happen. Yeah, from this angle it really did look like his Dave’s dad’s stomach was starting to resemble a sizable bowling ball. </p><p>Paul turned to face him, a small smile on his face. “Kid, are you parenting me?”</p><p>“No! I’m just saying...it might be nice if you felt like doing something other than hang around the house with me…”</p><p>“Right - I’m totally fine where I am.” </p><p>“Dad…”</p><p>“What, Dave?” Paul tried to keep the hint of annoyance out of his voice.</p><p>Dave started back slightly, instantly worried he’d upset his dad. “Uh...well, I mean...you know if you leave me alone or if you want to go out or whatever, I’ll be fine. I’m just worried.” </p><p>Paul sighed, it was obvious he’d failed in not snapping. “David - I’m okay, really. I like hanging out at home with you.”</p><p>Dave sucked in a deep breath, he needed to be brave to say this. “Dad - you know how you’re always being honest with me and telling me when I need to do something so I’m not quite so lonely or stuck inside all the time?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“You need to go do something so you’re not so lonely and stuck inside all the time.”</p><p> “Jeez, kid - way to throw my words back at me!”</p><p>“Dad, can I be real with you?”</p><p>Paul sighed softly. “I’m not going to like this am? But yeah, go ahead.”</p><p>“So, uh, you never go out, you drink a lot of beer - not judging - and you eat really bad food all the time. Also, not judging. But you’ve gained as much weight as I have...and I’m worried.” </p><p>Paul looked down at himself - he was wearing an old Cincinnati Bengals t-shirt that was torn at the shoulder and had a gaping hole on his stomach, and it had far too many grease and food stains on it - there were even huge nacho cheese fingerprints all over it. He was also wearing  an old pair of sweatpants that he actually hadn’t washed in maybe three weeks. Okay, he looked sorta...gross. He patted his stomach, which pushed rather unsightly at the frayed fabric of the shirt. He frowned and ran his hand across his face - feeling his unkempt beard. Shit - if his depressed kid was noticing how bad he looked, he must look bad. “Okay, point taken.” </p><p>“So, let’s go do something.”</p><p>“Wait, my kid wants to go and hang out with me - outside the house.” </p><p>“Yeah - let’s go get ice cream or go for a walk or something...we could even go out to Mclean Teddy Bear park, but I don’t feel like lying here all day.” Especially, Dave thought, not when he was trying very hard not to think about Kurt’s messages and what Kurt was about to do. </p><p>Paul shrugged. “First time for everything. Wanna go to the Whippy Dip and then drive out to park?” </p><p>“I don’t think I’ve been to the Whippy since I was five! Sure.” </p><p>“Might as well do it now, before it gets busy in the summer and...uh...yeah...I wanted to talk to you about something anyways.” </p><p>Dave looked at his father, one eyebrow raised, questioningly. “Is this my turn to say, I’m not going to like this am I?”</p><p>Paul laughed softly. “No, probably not. Okay, I’m just gonna rip the bandaid off - I’m going out of town on Wednesday.” </p><p>Dave sat up. “Out of town?”</p><p>“Yeah - look, try not to freak out or anything, okay? But, um...I’m flying to DC on Wednesday morning for a job interview.” </p><p>Dave stared at his dad - his mouth dropped open and he blinked rapidly. He could feel himself starting to freak out - his dad was going to DC. For a job interview. But he’d literally just sent in his Georgetown acceptance. So… “What?”</p><p>Paul switched off the tv and got up off his chair, coming to sit next to Dave on the sofa. “Okay, please don’t get upset, but after you told me about what schools you were applying to, I started to look at different law firms in each city and I applied at a few. I got some interviews - including this one in DC.” </p><p>Dave continued to stare at his dad. He opened his mouth again, hoping something articulate and smart would come out, instead all he managed to mutter was “Huh?” What does this mean? What if his dad gets a job and they have to leave Ohio sooner than August, like they’d planned? </p><p>Oh no. No no no no … not when he was so close to being with Kurt. </p><p>His dad didn’t even really notice that Dave was silently freaking out, he just barreled along. “Look, I know this is a little sudden, but I couldn’t just wait until you decided where you were going. I needed to be a little proactive - and I’m doing it so we can really move.” </p><p>“But...we were going to move in August?”</p><p>“And that’s still the plan.” Paul turned to look at his son, taking in the wide and almost fearful eyes. “Dave - I know you and Kurt are slowly starting to date and you won't want to leave until the last possible second...but please understand, I’m doing all this to keep you safe. To get you out of Lima.” </p><p>Dave nodded. He knew his dad had been completely serious about the move - the number of realtors that kept coming by was a pretty clear indication of that - but he really hadn’t expected his dad to already start lining up a job. He closed his eyes - and he knew that what he wanted to ask was totally the wrong thing to have as a priority, but he really did want to have a little bit of normalcy in his life. It was something that had been burning in him for awhile now. </p><p>“Dad...can...can I ask you to try and promise me something?”</p><p>“Sure, kid.” Paul squeezed Dave’s knee.</p><p>“I mean...I appreciate everything you're doing. I really do. I love it and I love you. And I want to leave Lima too, god do I want to leave. But, i also want to feel normal - like I want to have one fucking normal thing happen to me. And Kurt...that feels normal. Going on dates, having a boyfriend - that’s all normal. Please, dad, please let me have that for a while. Okay? I know you’re anxious to leave - I know you want to get me out, but please let me have Kurt and be normal with a boyfriend for a little while. Don’t make me move yet.” Dave was not at all surprised that his voice sounded tearful - he was on the verge of tears, after all.      </p><p>Paul slowly nodded. There was a part of him that had fully expected a teenage rebellion when Dave was faced with the idea that they would be leaving Lima a lot sooner than he expected, but this was not quite the rebellious attitude Paul thought he’d face. This was a rational and polite, and an almost carefully thought out request. This was the quiet hope of a boy who had lost so much and who wanted so badly to have one ordinary, stable thing in his life. So, Paul did what Paul would always do for his son - he agreed. “Yeah, Dave. I can do that for you. I promise, if I get the job, I’ll ask to start in late August. Plus, we’ll need time to find someplace to live, sell the house and all that jazz. But if you want one normal thing in your life - you’ll get it.” </p><p>“I just… sometimes I feel like there’s so much. What happened in February. Being depressed, everything with mom, feeling so anxious about disappointing people - dad, sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m a fucking teenager. And the fact Kurt likes me - and I like him - that feels like maybe, I could actually be eighteen and have fun. And not have to think about support groups, or antidepressants or therapy sessions or…”</p><p>Paul pulled Dave into a hug, squishing his son’s face to his chest. “I know, Dave. Sometimes I forget that too - sometimes I forget about letting you just live your life. I get so caught up in everything that happened and protecting you...I’m sorry Dave. I should have told you about all this sooner.</p><p>“It’s okay dad. And you really need to change that shirt - it smells like old hotdogs and mustard.”</p><p>“Buzz off, kid - we already established that I’m gross. Okay, so… here’s the deal, I’ll go to my interview on Wednesday, I'm going to stay overnight and meet with a realtor too - if you and Kurt have figured things out by then, Burt said you can stay with them. And if I get this job - I’ll say I need a few months for us to move and everything. But I promise, I’ll make it so you can have the whole summer to be normal with your very normal boyfriend. Okay?” </p><p>Dave’s eyes bugged out - his dad was going to be away overnight and he’d be staying at Kurt’s! And that point, they’d be dating...which might mean...oh! Wow! “Uh, yeah! Okay!” He couldn’t help the massive grin from growing on his face.</p><p>Paul shook his head, “Don’t get too excited, kid. Burt has a pretty strict separate beds policy - he’ll probably be cool with you guys doing what you always do, but...um… I think sex is going to be off the table.”</p><p>‘Dad!”</p><p>“And I know I said I wasn’t sure I could handle a sex talk, but you and I also need to have a talk about that stuff too, okay?”</p><p>“Dad! Stop!”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p> “I thought we agreed never to talk about sex.” </p><p>“Well, now you’re going to have a boyfriend, so…”</p><p>“Oh my god!” </p><p>“Look, let’s stick to our plan - we’ll go get ice cream and go for a walk and we can talk!” </p><p>Dave very much wanted to ground to just open up and swallow him whole. This was honestly the worst conversation he and his dad had ever had! “About me having sex with Kurt - dad! Really?” </p><p>“Look, I’ll be - as you say - real with you. Burt might have a separate bed policy, but I won’t.”</p><p>“What?” Dave was about to jump up and run out of the room - maybe hide in his room and never come out - but he stopped himself and stared at his dad. </p><p>Paul sighed - he was about to do something that would probably make Burt want to murder him. “When I was younger, gran and grandad were pretty strict with stuff - I wasn’t even allowed to have a girl near my room. And I kind of rebelled - and I ended up doing something stupid, with your mother. Now, that stupidity led me to have you, but I promised myself I’d never stop you from having certain freedoms, especially when it came to having a girl… uh boyfriend. I’d rather you do stuff under my roof where you’ll be safe. So, I’m going to be cool with you and Kurt being here - with some limitations. But we’ll talk about all that - but you can be open and free here, okay. You’re eighteen, and I want you to have some freedom. Just don’t go overboard, okay?”</p><p>“Uh...I don't even know what to say, dad. This is the worst conversation I’ve ever had in my life.” </p><p>“How about  you don’t say anything right now, and we go and have a father-son date and talk?” </p><p>“Yeah. I’d like that a lot! Well, not the sex talk part, that sounds awful, but hanging out will be awesome.” </p><p>“Good, okay,” Paul gave Dave another quick hug and then heaved himself - and it really did feel like he was heaving a very heavy load - off the couch. “I’m going to quickly change out of my hotdog shirt and then we can go.” </p><p>Dave watched as his dad walked out of the living room. What the fuck had just happened? His dad had gone from - I’m going to DC this week to I’ll help you have a normal summer to you can have sex with your boyfriend in my house in like sixty seconds. Dave wiped his forehead - it was slick with nervous sweat. </p><p>“Man, do I have a lot to tell Kurt.”  </p><p>***********************</p><p><br/>
God, Kurt could not feel more like a walking stereotype than he did at this exact moment. Sitting in his car, dressed in his best outfit - which henceforth shall be called the breakup outfit - and listening to Madonna’s new album trying to work up the nerve to drive up the block to his soon to be ex’s house.  </p><p>Maybe it was the Madonna that pushed the whole gay stereotype over the edge - especially since he was currently trying not to bop along to “Love Spent”. God, he was just one enormous walking gay cliche today. Ugh, Dave would be making fun of him so hard right now if he was here. </p><p>Kurt had been listening to the album non-stop since it had been released in March and he’d been singing its praises ever since. He pretty much had a whole lecture memorized by now about how it was a call back to vintage Madonna - 80’s Material Girl mixed with Ray of Light era Madonna. The whole album was perfect. And in some ways, it was also a perfect example of both his relationships - with Blaine and with Dave. </p><p>The last time he and Blaine had been in the car together, Blaine had just turned it off and then insisted on explaining that it was just awful music and he didn’t want to hear it anymore. Even when Kurt said he liked listening to it while driving. Dave, however, patiently sat through dozens of repeats without complaining once and he could even quote songs.</p><p>Unfortunately for Dave, the moment that he showed even the slightest hint of liking Madonna,  Kurt produced a curated five hour long playlist of Kurt’s essential Madonna tracks. And he was so impressed when Dave faithfully put it on his ipod. And Kurt had laughed quite hard the last time he’d shown up unexpectedly at Dave’s, only to find him dancing around joyfully to Holiday - which resulted in a forty minute dance party.  </p><p>Kurt sighed. Just thinking about Dave helped to calm him a bit. He wondered what Dave was doing right this now - was he still watching tv with his dad or was he up in his room, probably stressing out like crazy. Kurt closed his eyes and pictured Dave - there were a dozen different Daves that he could conjure up. Goofy Dave who could get insanely excited about any number of things and had no issue just acting like a fool. Geeky Dave who absolutely loved like a million different nerdy things - so many that sometimes Kurt just couldn’t keep track of them anymore! Then there was shy Dave, the quiet and timid guy who could disappear into himself no matter where they were. And sad Dave - who Kurt tried very hard not to think about very often. And then there was Kurt’s favorite - happy Dave. That Dave was a weird mix of all the other Daves, goofy, happily geeky all the time, a little shy and even a little sad. But he was the one who smiled a lot and laughed a lot and gave the best hugs in the world. </p><p>Quite honestly, Kurt didn’t care which Dave he got - just as long as he got a Dave. And Dave was waiting for him - had been waiting for so long now. Since February. </p><p>
  <em>I think I love you.   </em>
</p><p>God - if only Kurt had been willing to open himself up to Dave at that moment. If only he hadn’t been so fucking patronizing and dismissive...who knows where they might be right now. </p><p>No! This was not the time to dwell on what ifs or if onlys. His Dave - the right now Dave - that was the Dave that he was falling for harder and harder every day. That was the Dave who was waiting for him. And all it was going to take was just this one giant hurdle for them to get to where they needed to be. With a determined look on his face, Kurt put the car into drive and drove up the street. </p><p>Blaine’s house was, surprisingly, quite unremarkable. With the way he dressed and acted, Kurt had fully expected his family to live in some kind of palatial mansion, but he actually lived in this tiny unassuming small bungalow that was nestled between giant pine trees. It was painted a dark brown, with a green trim, which sort of meant it always looked exceptionally well hidden. As if the house - unlike it’s teenage occupant - was desperately trying to blend in. Kurt did appreciate the drama of the front door though - a shocking red that just seemed so out of place. </p><p>Kurt parked on the street - easier for a getting away from the scene of the crime - and slowly made his way to the door, noting that the only car in the driveway was Blaine’s VW Bug. Kurt paused and stared at the car - considering just leaving a note on the windshield and then going to get Dave and entering them both into witness protection for the next few years. </p><p>Kurt smiled at the fantasy of him and Dave living it up on some beach somewhere, like Matt Damon and...what’s her name...in the second Bourne movie. Which he only watched for Matt Damon...cause that man is fine. </p><p>Ugh - okay, He needs to just do this. No more stalling. Kurt stared at the door for a moment - absorbing the fact that this was probably going to be the last time he would be coming here. Then he pressed the doorbell and waited.  </p><p>Blaine opened the door seconds later, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a brown v-neck t-shirt.  He wasn’t wearing socks or shoes, and it looked like he had no product in his hair - giving him that slight afro effect that he hated. </p><p>“Hi!” He grinned at Kurt and leaned in for a kiss.  </p><p>Kurt felt a hard pang in his chest as already the very idea of kissing Blaine felt like he’d be cheating on Dave, so he pecked Blaine on the cheek. “Hi.” He smiled back.</p><p>“Come on in.” Blaine, his face shifting into a frown, stepped back and let Kurt enter.  </p><p>Kurt pulled off his jacket and hung it up on the hooks next to the door, just like he always did.  But decided against taking off his shoes, deciding instead to make sure he could make a quick getaway if need be - and unsurprisingly, he heard Dave’s voice in his head to use the force and to be strong, young padwan. Fuck - he really was about to date a Star Wars geek!  </p><p>Blaine’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, which he kind of disliked - he liked thinking about Dave. “Wow. You look great!”  Blaine sounded surprised.  And why shouldn’t he? It was a Saturday afternoon, after all, so what possible need would Kurt have to dress up. Other than to break up with Blaine, of course. “Oh thanks.” He blushed slightly, which was just not his style anymore. These days, he was more likely to make some stupid quip - again, an after effect of Dave’s presence in his life. </p><p>“What’s the occasion?”</p><p>“Oh, nothing really - just wanted to dress up.”</p><p>“Oh...ok.” Blaine shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was clear he could feel the tension and awkwardness in the room. And the way he was looking at Kurt, it was obvious that he knew what was happening here. </p><p>They continued to stand in the hallway, staring at each other - silently and awkwardly. Finally Kurt had to break the silence, “Sorry I haven’t called this week.” Kurt mumbled.</p><p>Blaine just shrugged. “It’s ok...I guess.” Blaine sighed and stared down at his feet - wiggling his toes. “I guess you’re not here to tell me that you want to spend the whole day together on a date or anything, are you?”</p><p>Kurt closed his eyes - he had to be strong. He had to do this. As Dave would say, he was Kurt Freaking Hummel - he could do anything. “No...”</p><p>“Am I about to get the talk?”</p><p>“Blaine...”</p><p>“Can we at least sit down for this?”</p><p>“Yeah. Of course.” Kurt had never felt more awkward in his life and that included his one week stint as a straight guy when he dated Brit. Blaine grunted - a very unfamiliar sound coming from him - turned around and walked towards the kitchen. Kurt followed, really wishing that they could have just had it out in the hallway.</p><p>In the kitchen, Blaine had what looked like his history homework spread out on the kitchen table. There was a huge textbook, random handouts and papers spread across the whole table - Kurt noticed a bunch of index cards, carefully filled out and separated into various piles. Kurt smiled - knowing how hard a time Blaine had keeping himself organized. “Studying for finals?”</p><p>“Yup...”  Blaine’s voice was barely a whisper. He gathered his books and papers up and deposited them onto the counter. “Have a seat.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Kurt sat, carefully adjusting his tight wool grey trousers. He ran his sweaty hands over his thighs. He was so fucking nervous. Blaine wandered over to a cupboard and got out a water glass, he filled it and turned back, bracing himself against the counter. Kurt noted that clearly no offers of a drink were forthcoming. </p><p>“So...” Blaine said softly, sipping from the glass. “I’m being dumped huh?”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Blaine, but...”</p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Are you sorry? Or is this more of a ``let's get Blaine out of the way exercise.’”  </p><p>“Of course, I’m sorry! You were my first boyfriend. And I don’t think of you as something to get out of the way...I..”</p><p>“Can I know why...although I can probably already answer that myself.”</p><p>Okay here goes, it’s time for the carefully rehearsed speech that he spent the entire drive here working on. He took a deep breath, “Blaine - I care very deeply for you and I always will…”</p><p>“Fuck off Kurt.” </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>Blaine sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was softly muttering to himself. Kurt sat and watched him - his hackles were already up and he could tell something much worse was coming. He could read Blaine like an open book, and Blaine was getting angry. </p><p>Finally, Blaine - still with his eyes closed and head bowed - whispered something almost indiscernible, but Kurt caught enough of it to know he was not going to like where this conversation was about to go.</p><p>“What did you just say?”</p><p>Blaine finally looked up, his eyes were raw and red, he was already crying. But he was also very angry. “I asked, is Dave fucking you?”</p><p>“Excuse me!?” Kurt bolted out of his chair - his face was horrified that Blaine would even think that! “How dare you.” </p><p>Blaine laughed and shook his head. “Oh please, you think I don’t see what’s going on. You don’t think I see how you two are with each other - so you tell me Kurt, cause I’m sure that when you’re being all cute and cuddly on the couch, it’d be super easy for him to just slip it in? And I bet he loves that - you being all so soft and pliant. So, I’ll ask again - Are you and Dave fucking each other? It’s a simple question, really.”</p><p>Kurt stared at Blaine for a moment, his entire body felt like it was ablaze. He had never been accused of something like this before - he gaped and took a step back. “Are...are you being serious right now?”</p><p>“Yes or no?”</p><p>“No! Absolutely not! I wouldn’t do that to you - Dave wouldn’t do that to you either! And how dare you ask me something like that! Dave won’t even be in the same room as I am as long as you and I are together...”</p><p>Blaine laughed again. “Now, that I know is a lie.”</p><p>“Blaine...you’re jumping to conclusions and being a complete asshole at the same time!”</p><p>“Oh please, Kurt. I’m not stupid! And I’m not blind! I see how much time you two spend together. I know you're practically inseparable! Fuck, I should have put a stop to that from the start! So, just tell me the truth. Are you fucking him?”</p><p>Kurt realized he was gripping the back of the chair in an iron grip - his knuckles were actually white from exertion and he felt a white hot spike of rage surge in his chest. How dare he - how dare Blaine - someone he’d once loved. Someone he gave so many firsts to. Someone he cared for - how dare he throw all that in Kurt’s face. And how dare he dirty and sully Dave like this. Kurt moved around the chair, stepping forward so he and Blaine were standing toe to toe.  </p><p>He stared at Blaine, his eyes were sharp and hard with hurt and anger. “No.” The word was barely said, it was almost ground out. “Dave and I have not had sex. As far as I know, Dave has never had sex with anyone. He is my best friend...and now he’s something more. And now you are something far less.” He was so angry. </p><p>“I can’t believe this...and I don’t believe you. He probably fucked you the first chance he got.”</p><p>Kurt’s hand shot out and slapped Blaine - hard - across the cheek. Kurt hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he heard the sound and saw the red handprint on Blaine’s cheek. He felt like spitting in Blaine’s face. “You fucking asshole. This is not how you behave. And you know what, believe what you want. I’m sorry I’m hurting you, I truly am. But I am officially done - you can go fuck yourself.”</p><p>Blaine gripped his cheek, his eyes wide and hurt. “Kurt?” He ran his other hand through his hair.  “I’m sorry - I shouldn't have said that! Fuck...Kurt. Please. What about us? I thought we were...perfect.”</p><p>“Maybe we were. But...things change. And quite honestly, my perfect boyfriend wouldn’t accuse me of something so...disgusting. And if you ever say something like that about Dave again, I’ll blind you in both eyes.”</p><p>Blaine looked taken aback, utterly shocked at Kurt’s words. “I’m sorry… but things change? That’s what I get...after all this time? You get to go off and have the amazing new boyfriend and I get...things change?”</p><p>“What do you want me to say?! Although, according to you, he’s just some asshole who just bends me over the couch and fucks me!”</p><p>“Fuck you Kurt, I’m allowed to be angry!”</p><p>“You’re not allowed to say what you did! You’re not allowed to accuse Dave and I of that!”</p><p>“I want to know the truth! I deserve that!”</p><p>“You lost the right to anything when you called me a slut just now!”</p><p>“I never said...”</p><p>“Yeah...you did. You might not have said the word - but you called me a slut. And you belittled Dave and all the work he’s done getting better. You called him a whore. And that makes you an ugly person, Blaine!  Look, I’m not asking you to understand. I’m not asking you to be ok with this. I’m not asking anything...but I am telling you that what I felt for you has changed and I’m no longer interested in dating you! I thought i’d still like you in my life...but I’m not sure I want that after...this. I have feelings for Dave that I can’t ignore. I can’t, and I don’t want to. So, I won’t! ”  </p><p>“Do you love him?”</p><p>“Oh, so now we’ve moved from me being Dave’s slut to us being in love...”</p><p>“I want to know if you cheated on me!”</p><p>“No! I’ve never cheated on you for one second - and if you think that I would have, well then your opinion of me was pretty shitty and I’m not sure why we were dating in the first place then. You’re an asshole.” Kurt moved away, he turned and started walking towards the fronthall - he’d had enough. He’d done what he’d come here to do and he had no desire to be called anymore ugly things today. </p><p>“Kurt - please, wait. I’m sorry. I’m just hurt and upset! </p><p>Kurt paused in the kitchen doorway, he didn’t bother turning around. “You had no right to accuse me or Dave of that!”</p><p>“I know. I’m...”</p><p>“Sorry, right. Good for you. Perhaps your apologies can keep you company while you drum up fantasies of me being a slut for Dave.”</p><p>“Kurt...please...I don’t want to lose you.”</p><p>“You lost me the moment you accused me of that. I loved you very much Blaine. But you just cheaped our time together and you made me feel like less of a person. I don’t think we should talk for a long time. I’m leaving.”</p><p>“No! Kurt, please...just talk to me! Let’s just sit down and talk.” </p><p>Kurt finally lost his patience. He whirled around and screamed, “What else is there to talk about Blaine!? What else can we possibly say to each other!?” </p><p>“I...I...I hate that I lost you to him.” </p><p>“You didn’t lose me to him - I just stopped wanting you. You lost me to your disgusting accusations. I’m going now. Goodbye, Blaine.” </p><p>“Are you going to go see him!?”</p><p>“No, I’m sure you believe that it’ll be hard for me not to go bend over for him, but I’m going home and I’ll have to struggle to keep my legs closed.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry I said that, I lo…” </p><p>“Goodbye. Blaine. Just goodbye.” Kurt walked quickly towards the front door, pausing only for a second to grab his jacket off the hook and bolted out the door. He almost sprinted to his car, throwing open the door and leaping in. As he was starting the car, he caught sight of Blaine standing on the front porch, watching him. The look on his face was unreadable.  It was something beyond sadness.</p><p>Once - even fifteen minutes ago - a look like that on Blaine’s face would have broken him, but now with the words - <em>“Are you and Dave fucking?”</em> - floating in his head, all he could feel was hurt and anger. He shook his head and started his car. </p><p>He drove away - perhaps a tad too quickly - but he was desperate to get away. Get home. Get to where it was safe and then...get to Dave. </p><p>He barely made it two blocks, before he had to pull over and sob. Sobbing for the loss of his first boyfriend and for the hurt over the awful things said about someone he cherished more than life. </p><p>*************</p><p>Kurt slammed the door to his room, hard. It rattled some of the photos on the wall and Dave’s copy of Pride and Prejudice fell off the side of his desk. “Shit.” He stooped and grabbed it - checking to make sure it wasn’t bent. Then he gently placed it back on the desk. </p><p>He sighed and dropped down on the bed, his heart hurting. He didn’t know what to do - how could Blaine say those things! He stared down at his hands and shook his head. “Bastard.” </p><p>There were footsteps in the hall and then a soft knock on the door and his dad’s voice - “Kurt are you okay?” </p><p>He sighed, pushed himself up and moved to the door - opening it to the very worried face of his father. “Hi dad, yeah - I’m okay.” </p><p>“You don’t look okay.” Burt frowned, stepping into the room and sitting down on Kurt’s desk chair. </p><p>Kurt just shrugged - not entirely sure what to say - he moved back to sit on the bed. “I broke up with Blaine and he...said some things.” </p><p>“Oh? What things?” Burt leaned forward, his elbows firmly planted on his knees. </p><p>Kurt almost rolled his eyes - he hated talking to his dad about this stuff. Hated it. And normally, he would be calling Mercedes - or Dave - to talk about what Blaine had accused him of, but right now the quiet reassurance of his dad seemed more enticing. “He essentially accused me of cheating with Dave - just using uglier words.” </p><p>Burt colored and shook his head, an angry expression settling on his face, but he remained where he was. “Are you alright?” His voice though - that clearly gave away his anger. </p><p>“I think so, I just want to be alone for a bit. I just...like I never thought he could have such a low opinion of me!” </p><p>“You know that he’s wrong to think of you like that, right?”</p><p>“Of course! It just hurts that someone I loved and trusted would think of me like that!”</p><p>“Kurt - listen to me - you are more special than you know. And your self worth should always come first - you do not need someone like Blaine to give you validation - you know your own actions, and that’s all that matters.” </p><p>“Thanks dad. I know and I think I’m just going to hang out in my room for a while.” </p><p>“And if he calls, do I have permission to tell him what I think of him?”</p><p>“Can I sit in and listen?”</p><p>“I’ll record it.” </p><p>“It just hurt - a lot, Dad. And he said some ugly things about Dave too.” </p><p>Burt’s face went dark - which was not surprising, Kurt knew how much his dad cared for Dave. “Don’t tell Paul, the guy will go burn Blaine’s house down. And don’t tell Dave what he said either, okay? He’s just finding his footing - this would hurt him too much.” </p><p>“I have to tell him what we were accused of.” </p><p>“Yes - but no details, Kurt. Tell anyone else, but not Dave, okay?”</p><p>“Okay - I can do that.” </p><p>“Can I expect to see Dave showing up at my door today?”</p><p>Kurt pursed his lips slightly - he wanted Dave. Oh lord, how he wanted Dave. But he had also just ended things with Blaine - he needed a little time before he leapt straight into Dave’s arms. “No - that’s too fast. I think I’ll see him tomorrow. I just need the rest of the day to calm down.”</p><p>His dad pushed himself up, moving towards Kurt to pull him into a hug. “Sounds like a plan - tell him and Paul to come tomorrow for dinner or something. Tonight - it can be all about us Hummel-Hudsons. We can order Thai tonight. And we can talk more - there’s a couple things happening this week that we need to chat about.”</p><p>“Everything okay?”</p><p>“Oh yes, I think you’ll like them a lot. Okay, I’ll leave you be - but don’t stay up here all day, okay.” </p><p>“Okay, thanks Dad. I love you.” Kurt watched as his dad slipped back out of his room, shutting the door behind him. Kurt sat for a second - just breathing - then he started moving. He needed to start processing things, and although he had realized earlier that he’d pretty much already moved on from his relationship with Blaine, the physical detritus of that relationship was still all too...present.  </p><p>First, he gathered all the pictures - him and Blaine at school, at the park. out for dinner, at the movies, at musicals and plays and on walks and all the other little moments they’d made a point of recording.</p><p>Good lord, he took a lot of pictures!</p><p>Then came all the letters and little love notes - the documented history of a teenage love affair. Plus books that Blaine had given him, and the little gifts - a million little reminders of his first romance. They had always had this beautiful aura around them - like a gentle whisper of love and affection. But now, as he touched them,they all echoed with those hateful and angry words - <em>“Are you and Dave fucking?”</em> - and his heart hurt. </p><p>How could Blaine render their romance so ugly with such an accusation?  </p><p>He started grabbing the stuffed animals that Blaine always insisted on giving him - a teddy bear, a ladybug, a giraffe.  </p><p>A monkey. No - not the monkey. The monkey wasn’t Blaine. The monkey was Dave’s...on Valentine’s Day. Kurt picked it up and hugged it to his chest - he had never told Blaine where it came from, it had been his secret friend. A special token from the most special of people. He’d always kept it on his desk, where it’s arms could hug his desk lamp - something which Dave found adorable. </p><p>God. Dave - he was about to become Dave Karofsky’s boyfriend. Fuck, there’s a phrase he would never have expected thinking. But he smiled all the same, because the moment he thought it, a warm flush settled in his chest. </p><p>Working quickly, so he could get to the good stuff, he put the monkey back on the desk and then gathered all the pictures and letters and everything else and started shoving them into a plastic bag, ready to toss them in the garbage. But then he stopped. </p><p>Yes, Blaine’s accusation was...disgusting. And if Kurt thought about it, he would probably find a few more things about their relationship that would make him feel sick. But in the end, he had to give some reverence to what they had, despite Blaine’s hurtful words at the end. </p><p>No - not everything about their relationship was garbage. Kurt dropped to his hands and knees and fished around under the bed - smiling when his hand landed on a largish shoebox. He carefully filled it with photos - which he took out of the frames, of course - and then the letters and mementos and everything else. He was sure that at some point in the future - like when he was twenty-one - he’d stumble across this box and toss it out unceremoniously, but for now he’d keep it. Then, the box went into the closet, and he shut the door on that relationship - ready to prepare himself for the next.   </p><p>And speaking of which… He flopped down on the bed, picking up his phone. He owed someone a text. But how do you convey everything that had just happened in just a quick text message? Dave would say - if in doubt, make it stupid.   </p><p>
  <em>Well...that was much more dramatic than it needed to be. </em>
</p><p>It did sound flippant, but that was better than writing out the accusation. Kurt groaned - he had no idea how Dave was going to take that news. Dave was so terrified of hurting or disappointing people that this was really going to hit him hard.   </p><p>But they’d weather it together - as they had so many things. He smiled as he tapped send.</p><p>It took less than a minute for his phone to ring. He grinned as he answered. “Hi Dave.”</p><p>“Are you ok?” it sounded like Dave was outside somewhere - there was wind and strangely enough the sound of birds. But Dave sounded worried. </p><p>Kurt sighed and flexed his hand - wishing Dave was holding it. “Yeah. I’m ok.”</p><p>“What happened? Oh, hold on!” Kurt could tell that Dave was moving the phone away from his mouth - as the wind got a bit more intense, then he heard, “Dad! I’m just going over here for a second...yes! I’ll be right back! Just don’t wander off!” Kurt heard Paul’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then Dave was back, “Sorry, I made my dad go on a hike...he’s getting all excited about some local history plaques.” </p><p>“You’re on a hike?” </p><p>“Well, it’s more a slow walk...I’m making dad exercise - he’s sweating a lot.” </p><p>“He's okay?”</p><p>“I...think so? It’s been a weird day.” </p><p>“Tell me about it!”</p><p>“I have a lot to tell you, but you go first - what happened!?”</p><p>“I saw Blaine.” </p><p>“Yeah, I gathered - you do and don’t sound upset, which is confusing.” </p><p>“Yeah - I’m weirdly okay and then I'm not okay.” </p><p>“Kurt, please. What happened?”</p><p>“I told him the truth...”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“He had the choice to handle it well or not...he chose poorly.” </p><p>“Nice Indiana Jones reference - what did he say?” </p><p>“He accused you and I of having sex and cheating on him...only he was more crass.”</p><p>There was utter silence on the phone, all Kurt could hear was Dave’s breathing and the sound of birds chirping. Then, “Wow. I, um, I wasn’t expecting that. That’s really shitty of him. Wow…” Dave trailed off again, settling into silence.</p><p>“Are you okay, Dave?”</p><p>“I - I’ve never been accused of something like that before. I mean I’ve been a lot of things - but I would never let you cheat on your boyfriend. My mom cheated on my dad… which, given how religious she is, was really confusing. But I just would never. Fuck...okay, I...I, um, I think I’m okay.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry Dave...I know you would never! And I tried to explain to him that we haven’t done anything...at all. Hell, we haven’t seen each other in a week!”</p><p>“Are you ok, Kurt?”</p><p>Kurt lay there - the burning anger in his chest was starting to give way to a deep hurt and he could feel the tears starting to build. “I...I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Want me to come over? I can get my dad to drop me after he finishes assaulting random people with local history facts.”</p><p>“I do - but would you be okay if I just had the day to myself?” </p><p>“Kurt! Of course! You just broke up with someone - I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I’ve waited a long time - I can keep waiting.” </p><p>“Come over tomorrow - we can watch a movie and dad says you should stay for dinner. Actually, I’m also supposed to invite your dad.” </p><p>“Well that won’t be awkward or anything. And are you sure Kurt?”</p><p>“More than anything - I want to see you tomorrow, please.”</p><p>“You know you don’t even need to ask. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep tonight now.” </p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“I get to kiss you tomorrow - you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” </p><p>“And what makes you think you’re getting a kiss, mister?”</p><p>“Oh...no! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t presume. I’m sorry Kurt...I…”</p><p>“Oh god! Don’t go being all weird on me, Dave! I’m probably going to throw myself at you the second I see you.” </p><p>“Yeah? I’ve never had someone throw themselves at me…should I wear my football stuff?”</p><p>“Don’t be an idiot! I’m not going to tackle you on the whatever yard line Dave…” </p><p>“Hey! I don’t know how this works! Everything I know about romance and relationships I got from Han and Leia - and I don’t think I can call you scruffy or a nerfherder.” </p><p>“You’re adorable, you know that?”</p><p>“I am? Fuck...we can say stuff like that to each other now, huh?” </p><p>“Yes...Dave, we can. Also, how are you the Leia in this situation?”</p><p>“Hey - I’m the blushing virgin princess.”</p><p>Kurt made a slight strangled noise. He heard a soft bark of laughter from Dave. </p><p>Kurt…”</p><p>“Yeah Dave?” Kurt managed to compose himself, although he was a bit caught up on the whole Dave as a virgin thing. Man, his emotions and thoughts were all over the place today.</p><p>Dave sucked in a deep breath. His voice was soft and sounded so happy, “You’re perfect - th-thank you for giving me a chance.” </p><p>“Oh Dave!” </p><p>“No, really - this means more to me than anything anyone has never done. I can’t believe I get to be with you - oh shit, I’m crying.” </p><p>Kurt’s breath caught in his throat and for a second he almost gave in - almost demanded Dave drive here right now. But he shook his head - no, he would wait and then make tomorrow perfect. “Dave - I’m so glad I get to be with you too. </p><p>“I...oh for fuck’s sake, hold on. DAD I’M COMING - GIVE ME A MINUTE! Kurt - shit, I think I need to go - Dad’s looking sad and lonely. Can I call you tonight? Or do you just want to be on your own?” </p><p>“I’ll call you, okay?” </p><p>“Okay - I’ll talk to  you later. Bye...uh okay, gonna try this out - don’t get mad. Bye babe.” </p><p>Kurt laughed - the sound of Dave’s voice, all bashful and sweet made him feel warm everywhere. “Not mad at it, I like it. And bye Dave.” </p><p>Kurt hung up and lay there for a minute, he held the monkey and smiled harder than he had ever smiled. Dave was calling him babe - Dave sounded so happy. He’d done that. He’d made Dave feel that way - everything was worth it because of that. </p><p>He still needed to process all of this - ending things with Blaine, that awful accusation, the quiet shy way Dave approached opening himself up to them as a couple...and, of course, Dave’s admitted virginity. But he could process it. He could and he would. And then he’d be ready to fully commit to one hell of a relationship with his bashful bear. </p><p>He made a note to call Dave that tomorrow. </p><p>Kurt pushed himself off the bed, not really wanting to be alone after all. He’d go see if Finn and Rachel were decent and could handle hearing about Blaine and his ugly words. Finn might go punch the jerk. Oh, and he’d need to think about what he was going to wear tomorrow! And later...he’d talk to Dave again. </p><p>******************** </p><p>This was the longest goddamn car ride in the history of car rides! </p><p>It literally felt he and his dad had been driving for days, when in actuality, he knew it had been less than ten minutes - which meant they were almost at Kurt’s. But this entire day had felt impossibly long, made no better by how little sleep Dave had gotten last night. </p><p>He and Kurt had talked for a while before bed - mostly about Dave’s dad’s revelation about the job interview, Dave’s impending sleepover at Kurt’s, Dave’s worry over his dad’s weight gain, and what they were going to do about Blaine’s anger - which had made itself known through a series of insulting texts to Kurt. </p><p>But when it came time for actual sleep - Dave suddenly found himself at a total loss. No position was comfortable, and just lying in bed meant that his brain switched on. He’d been plagued with thoughts of Blaine taking revenge, his own anxieties over how to be a good boyfriend to Kurt, and just the overwhelming desire to be in Kurt’s presence. </p><p>He’d finally dropped off around five in the morning, only to wake up three hours later with a new terrified thought - what was he going to wear? He was seeing Kurt as his boyfriend for the first time. He couldn’t just show up wearing his usual oversized jeans or sweatpants and a nerdy t-shirt. And he didn’t really want to wear one of his old ugly polos - he hated those things. But all of his nice shirts no longer fit him. </p><p>He’d jumped out of bed and started going through his closet. Pulling off his shirt and shorts, he started trying almost every item of clothing he had - all the nicer button ups didn’t close anymore. Or his favorite red and white flannel, he could barely get one button closed around his stomach. Fuck - he was disgusting. At least his jeans still sorta closed - although his best pair were extremely uncomfortable when he had them done up. </p><p>He had nothing nice to wear - Dave sat down heavily on the closet floor, tears coming fast and hot. Why the fuck would Kurt want to date a fat slob like him? His dad had found him there - wearing an ill fitting pair of jeans and his flannel shirt that was stretched dangerously across his stomach. </p><p>“Kid - listen to me okay. First, Kurt doesn’t give a shit what you’re wearing. He’s gonna be overjoyed you’re there. And two, you and I - we’re gonna get in shape. We’re gonna go on a diet and start exercising together - don’t give me that face - and then you’re gonna wow your fella and I’m gonna wow the ladies in DC.” </p><p>And now, after far too many excruciating hours of waiting, Dave was on his way to what was possibly the strangest first date in the history of first dates - dinner with his boyfriend. Which would not normally be weird - it was the fact that they were being joined by his dad, Kurt’s dad, Carole, Finn and Rachel that made it weird.  </p><p>“If you keep bouncing your leg like that, you're eventually going to hit the gas or the brake and get us killed.” </p><p>“Don’t blame me - you’re the one who insisted I drive.” </p><p>Paul shrugged and readjusted his glasses, “It was either that or possibly have you leap out of the car and just start running.”</p><p>“I’m just excited!”</p><p>“This is fun - it’s a whole new thing I can make fun of you for.” </p><p>“You cannot make fun of me over dinner!”</p><p>“But I brought all your baby photos!”</p><p>“I’ll remember this when you get a girlfriend, dad.” Dave was trying to sound grumpy, but he was not succeeding at all, especially since they'd just pulled into Kurt's driveway. He threw the car into park, and almost started flailing at the car door to get it open. </p><p>“Dave - calm down, okay.” Paul, grabbing hold of a six pack of beer, slowly got out and started walking towards the open garage, which Burt was yet again reorganizing - a clear sign that Rachel was over. Paul waved, hefting the beer in the air and started talking animatedly - already happily describing Dave’s plight.</p><p>“I am perfectly calm!” Dave slammed the door, glaring at his dad’s back. Then, he took a deep breath and tired to calm himself down - cause he really wasn’t all that calm. He turned to the front door and took a hesitantly small step. Oh wow - okay, he was about to see Kurt. </p><p>He was about to do a lot more than just see Kurt...they would probably kiss. Oh shit. He was about to have his first <em>real</em> kiss with a boy - the boy. After everything they’d been through - every horrible, awful thing...the bullying, the hurt, the humiliation, the sadness, the torment, the slowly evolving friendship...it had led them here. To this moment. </p><p>Dave’s feet sped up. And he watched in fascinated joy as the door opened. And just like that, Kurt was there - standing in the doorway. He had dressed down - just a simple grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans - but he looked absolutely wonderful. </p><p>“Kurt.” Dave’s voice sounded strained and almost afraid. He didn’t know what was coming - or what he should do. The last time he and Kurt had kissed...well that had been an epic nightmare. He watched, now, as Kurt’s face broke out into a huge smile...and that was enough. </p><p>Enough to send Dave running towards the other boy, grabbing him and pulling him close. Kurt let out a small yelp - “Dave!” But his hands flew up and gripped at Dave’s back, holding him tightly. </p><p>They stood like that for a moment - holding each other, breathing in how different this felt from all the other times they’d touched or hugged. Then slowly, Dave pulled back and looked down at Kurt. </p><p>“Hi.” </p><p>Kurt was laughing. “Hello yourself.” </p><p>“Um...you look awesome - you’re uh, damn hot...” </p><p>“Are you flirting?” </p><p>“Trying to - this is a lot harder in person!” Dave tried to put on his best, I’m a sexy and smooth boyfriend face. He was rewarded with a bright smile.  </p><p>Then, as if in slow motion, he watched as Kurt shifted positions and leaned up towards his face - oh! they were going to kiss. He smiled and leaned down slightly to meet Kurt’s lips. And suddenly he was being kissed. Dave’s eyes fell shut at the sound of Kurt’s moan. Kurt’s lips were cool and soft against his perpetually chapped lips. He whimpered quietly as he responded to the kiss - moving his lips against Kurt’s. It felt like a million little electrodes had been attached to his face - this was the most perfect, most beautiful feeling in the world. His whole face felt like it was on fire. Kurt’s hand reached up and cupped his cheek - pulling him deeper into the kiss. Dave leaned in, soaking up the pure intensity of the moment. He sighed and opened his mouth - letting Kurt’s tongue slip into his mouth. </p><p>And Dave’s mind suddenly went blank. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title from (the incredible) Dead Ends by Radical Face (https://youtu.be/LF2ApFriw0o)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. And once you find your point of view / I hope you light up…</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Homophobic Language, mentions of suicidal thoughts, sexually explicit language</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Lima Mall really was one of the most depressing places on the face of the planet - it felt like some kind of horrendous teenage nightmare that was perpetually trapped in the 1980s. You could practically hear Tiffany singing I Think We’re Alone Now on some makeshift stage in the food court. Only now, rather than everything being bright and shiny, like in Back to the Future, everything was drab and had this look of decay to it - you felt a bit more like you were trapped in a scene from I Am Legend. </p><p>And yet Dave, like every teenager in Lima, often made the pilgrimage to the mall on a weekly basis - because what else was there to do in a small rural town in Ohio? But if he had to go hang out at the mall, at least he was doing it with Santana - she was always ready with a few good barbs about the soullessness of this place. Plus, Santana was a good distraction. Today was the day he was spending the night at Kurt’s - in separate beds - but since Kurt had promised Mercedes he’d do...something after school, they’d decided to meet at the mall before heading back to Kurt’s for dinner. </p><p>As soon as she heard Dave was on his own for the afternoon, Santana had claimed him - announcing that Dave was her’s before “Kurt rode Dave to pleasure town.” Unfortunately, agreeing to hang out with Santana meant that her sole focus was gossip about Dave and his new relationship status. And that in turn meant he was in the hot seat. Thus far, he’d managed to avoid extreme interrogation by willingly following her from store to store, while she hunted for the perfect pair of high heels for her prom dress. He even tried to let his “inner gay” out and gave some fashion advice. </p><p>He was sure everything he said was wrong. Although she did buy the shoes he liked...so maybe he wasn’t the worst at this? Or Kurt was really rubbing off on him. Plus, she seemed to approve of the shirt he’d bought himself - especially the red cowboy plaid from American Eagle. She’d been less pleased at the three new Star Wars shirts he’d found in Hot Topic though.  </p><p>But now, he couldn’t distract her. Now, as they sat in the middle of the food court, both with a rather disgustingly large milkshake from the new ice cream place that had just opened, his new boyfriend was her only interest. And he felt like shrinking under her gaze.  </p><p>“So,” Santana said around her straw, “are you two calling each other boyfriends yet?”</p><p>“Yes, um, I guess we are...it still feels a little surreal. We just got together on Saturday.”  Dave frowned at his milkshake, which was a clear violation of the new diet he and his dad had agreed on. Plus, he just wasn’t quite sure he could convey all the weirdly conflicting emotions he felt about being with Kurt. Like he was happy that he’d be given this chance - there was no doubt about that - but he also had this sense of impending doom. About everything. Which, yeah, sure was fatalistic - but can you blame him. </p><p>Both his dad and his therapist have now told him to just enjoy being with Kurt - to try and have some fun. Even early this morning, as his dad was heading out the door - small suitcase in tow - he’d gripped Dave’s shoulder. <em>“Dave, I can already see in your face that you’re expecting the worst - but remember, you’re getting the chance to be normal for a while. And Kurt wants to be with you! So embrace it buddy!”</em>   </p><p>Why did that sound like such easy advice to give, but so very hard to follow?</p><p>Santana’s mildly frustrated laugh utterly derails his train of thought, “You guess? What the fuck? You were practically a couple while he was still dating the gay Bride of Frankenstein...so why haven’t you made yourself a t-shirt that says I’m Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend?”</p><p>“I put the order in yesterday. And gay Bride of Frankenstein?”</p><p>“It’s his hair. It looks like he shoved his hand into a light socket most of the time.”</p><p>Dave snorted slightly, despite his utter distaste at having to talk about Blaine. “I suppose so.”</p><p>“Have you kissed yet?”</p><p>“Yeah! A little… I kissed his brains out on Sunday…”</p><p>“You kissed...a little? You are so pathetic.”</p><p>“Shut up...I was so nervous, I’m sure it wasn’t any good - I’ve, um, never really kissed someone before. And his entire family - plus Rachel - and my dad were there. We had like zero privacy - we couldn’t even make out during a movie cause Finn and Rachel insisted on watching with us!”</p><p>“Ha! You got cockblocked by Rachel Berry!” </p><p>“Actually it was more Finn who kept looking at us and sighing and telling Rachel that we looked romantic together.” </p><p>“I would have paid money to see Frankenteen swoon over your big gay romance.” </p><p>“Well, he’ll be there tonight, so I’ll make a video of him being all dreamy over us.”</p><p>“Just make sure you stop recording when you go back to Kurt’s room?”</p><p>“Don’t worry - I’m not planning on publishing any sex tapes with Kurt...unlike you.”</p><p>“Fuck you, you mental ward reject. I told you never to bring that up!”</p><p>“It was hilarious!”</p><p>“Look, Igor...”</p><p>“Ok ok, I get it. Won’t mention scissor-gate again...”</p><p>“Fuck...that’s gross!”</p><p>Dave just laughed - “Yeah it is. I’m sorry. But really - we won’t be doing anything tonight. Kurt’s dad has a strict separate beds policy, and I’m not getting on his bad side!” </p><p>“I guarantee you that Kurt will be crawling into that bed of yours tonight.” </p><p>“Whatever - did I tell you, my dad has pretty much told me that Kurt and I can - you know - have sex at my house if we want.” </p><p>“Fuck, I love your dad.” </p><p>“Yeah - I, uh, I’m not sure I’m ready for that though. I keep feeling faint when I think about it - which is weird, since I’m an eighteen year old teenager.” </p><p>“Well, normally I’d tell you to buck up and go plow that field. But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, you’ve been through a lot, so take your time and do it when you’re ready.” </p><p>“Aw, Santana Lopez is giving sensible sex advice! Have pigs flown?”</p><p>“Fuck you!”</p><p>Dave smiled and leaned over to give Santana a small shove.  </p><p>She pushed back...harder, with just as big a smile on her face. “Look, Dave, for all this shit I give you - I’m really happy you’re getting a happy ending here. You deserve it, and I’m really sorry I wasn't there for you back in February. I could’ve helped - I could’ve stopped you from hurting yourself.”</p><p>Dave shook his head, he really didn't want his friends to feel responsible for what happened in February - it wasn’t their fault. “It’s okay, San. I”ve been talking to my therapist about it, and I’m not sure that would’ve stopped me. I was going to do what I did regardless - my brain wasn’t on right.”</p><p>“God Dave, I’m so sorry.” </p><p>“It’s okay! But thank you! Look, can we not talk about that - I don’t want to end up crying in the middle of this depressing ass mall - can we just keep talking about my new boyfriend?” </p><p>“Yes! So, he won’t tell me what happened with Bow Tie - I know he told Mercedes and Rachel, cause they’re mad as hell. But what happened?”</p><p>Dave’s face fell and he could feel an angry blush spread over his cheeks, “I’d rather call him a hurtful and hateful little asshole.”</p><p>“Dave?” Her voice got soft and quiet, worried. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“He said some stuff to Kurt when they broke up.” </p><p>“What did he say? And if he hurts you, I literally will tear him to little tiny pieces.” </p><p>“He accused Kurt and I of having sex behind his back - Kurt wouldn’t tell me what he actually said, but I got the gist on Monday when he confronted us at school.”</p><p>“Sorry? What? He did what? What do you mean he confronted you?”</p><p>Dave sipped at his cookies and cream milkshake and gave a small shudder, remembering the really bizarre events from earlier in the week - Kurt’s hand in his, Blaine’s angry and hurtful words, and their surprising saviour. Neither he nor Kurt had been entirely prepared for what had happened - neither had been ready for the utter rage that faced them in the halls of McKinley. </p><p>*************************</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>(McKinley - Two days earlier) </strong>
</p><p>“So, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” Kurt smiled brightly at Dave as he tugged him down the hall towards their lockers. “You’ve been smiling like an idiot since I picked you up this morning.” </p><p>Dave gave a small laugh and tightened his grip on Kurt’s hand. He really was feeling absolutely incredible, like nothing in the world was going to bring him down. “Hey - I’m holding hands with my boyfriend, something that I honestly used to think was just some fantasy. So, I’m gonna be as happy as I damn well please!” He happily hurried after Kurt, his backpack slapping against his back. They were running late today, mostly because Kurt insisted on stopping for ‘coffee’ - which apparently was code for ‘let’s make out in the car’. </p><p>“Oh, I’m not complaining! I really like how… light you’ve seemed since yesterday.”</p><p>“I like it too. I feel… lighter. Like having a boyfriend just fits. And sorry my dad was so weird this morning - he’s freaking out about his job interview on Wednesday.” </p><p>“I’m still not sure why he needed to print out a copy of his hotel details for me this morning, but he seemed happy enough. God, I can’t believe I get you all to myself in two days!”</p><p>“I thought you’re having to share me with your dad, Carole, Finn and Rachel?”</p><p>“Please don’t remind me. And my dad is still being firm about you being in the guestroom - your dad’s philosophy is much more humane.”</p><p>“Kurt - I promise, we’ll cuddle a whole lot. But I’m not going to break your dad’s rule, okay? It’s his rule - we’re sticking to it.”</p><p>“Ugh - no wonder my dad loves you, you’re so by the book. Come on - we’re so late for class and we might as well pretend we care about these last couple weeks.”</p><p>“I say we skip and go make out some more.” Dave tugged Kurt back towards him, leaning in for a kiss and loving the way Kurt responded to him. Kurt slipped into Dave’s arms, molding his body into Dave’s and pushing his mouth hotly against Dave’s. Dave groaned and tugged Kurt even closer. He felt this rush of warmth all over his body as Kurt hungrily responded to his kiss - every time they kissed, Dave felt so damn good. He grinned against Kurt’s mouth. “Can I take that as a yes?”</p><p>Kurt pulled back. “You are a stickler for my dad’s rules, I’m one for attending class - so no, let’s get you to chemistry.” </p><p>Dave pouted but let Kurt pull away and lead him back down the hallway. As they rounded the corner, both stopped short - their smiles fading quickly from their faces. Blaine was leaning against Kurt’s locker. </p><p>He glanced up, staring at them and their clasped hands, and a hard shadow of anger crossed his features. He had both his hands hidden behind his back, as though he was hiding something. But neither Kurt or Dave took notice, they could only see the painfully bright yellow sweater he was wearing. He cocked his head to the side, and smiled an angry smile. </p><p>“Well, this is cute.” </p><p>“Blaine,” Kurt tightened his grip on Dave’s hand and stepped forward, “don’t you have class?” He kept his voice even - as though giving Blaine the chance to just walk away from whatever dramatic moment was about to happen.</p><p>“Actually, I wanted to see if you’d changed your mind...about him. Guess not.” </p><p>Dave felt his entire mouth go dry and a sheen of sweat break out across his back - his armpits suddenly felt slick with icy cold sweat. He didn’t want this - he was absolutely sure that there was no way he could handle a confrontation with Blaine. He knew he was going to start crying - it was just a matter of time. He could feel the rising upswell of a panic attack. This was the literal definition of what Dr. Anderson called a code red situation. He shifted positions so he was slightly behind Kurt - wishing very badly that he could just run away. But he never would - he’d never leave Kurt to face Blaine’s rage on his own. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t get them both to leave, “Kurt, come on - let’s just go.” His whisper was harsh and desperate. </p><p>Kurt clearly didn’t hear him. “Go away Blaine - you’re being an asshole again.” Kurt sounds tired and angry. “Unless you’re here to apologize to me for what you said on Saturday and your text messages, please just go away.” </p><p>Blaine just glared at Kurt, then turned his attention to Dave. “I can’t believe you dumped me for this...suici....” </p><p>“Hey!” Kurt’s voice is so loud that Dave heard a teacher drop something in a classroom out of surprise. Dave’s breath started coming faster and faster - he knew exactly what Blaine was about to call him. And he knew exactly what...connotation...was going to follow. At first he felt...Jesus, he felt that same rush of panic that he’d felt in February back at Thruston, but then he also felt, for the first time in a long time, a bubble of anger start to swirl in his stomach. It was an alarming sensation - the roiling mixture of fear and anger. He wasn’t sure which would win out.</p><p>Kurt’s anger, however, was immediate and extreme. He leaned forward and his voice was hard dn cold, “You finish that sentence and I will flatten you - I don’t care who you are or what we were, I will ruin you.” </p><p>Blaine looked blase and then rolled his eyes, as if the threat was entirely empty - but Dave damn well knew it wasn’t an empty threat. “Whatever, Kurt,” Blaine stepped forward, eyes locked on Dave. “You enjoying my sloppy seconds Dave? Bet you can’t get enough.” </p><p>“Enough Blaine.” Kurt hissed, reaching out and pushing Blaine back.  </p><p>Blaine stumbled slightly, looking extremely surprised. But then he shook his head and kept going. “I bet you begged him to let it happen - ‘just this once, Kurt. It’ll make me feel so much better…’” His voice had a mocking, hateful tone.</p><p>Dave couldn’t handle it anymore, his eyes were wet and his throat felt sore and close, but no one was going to talk to him or his boyfriend like this! “Fuck you! We haven’t done anything - Kurt never cheated on you!” </p><p>“Yeah right, you’re so fucking repressed that I bet you dropped to your knees, tongue wagging, the moment he…” </p><p>Kurt roared and bolted forward, grabbing at Blaine, only this time the other boy jumped back - but not before Kurt’s fingernails scraped down Blaine’s left cheek, leaving three long angry lines. Blaine stumbled back, clearly surprised at the angry and violent move from Kurt, and as he did his hand finally dropped into sight - it was holding a slushie cup. Both Dave and Kurt’s eyes shot to it. “Blaine?” Kurt sounded pissed off and surprised. </p><p>“I don’t know which one of you assholes deserves this more...” His voice sounded heavy with a barely contained sob.</p><p>Then there was a new voice in the hallway - an utterly unexpected one. “I <em>know</em> you’re not going throw that in Dave’s face...:”</p><p>All three boys turned to look at Azimio Adams, who was leaning against a pillar, watching the scene in front of him with an air of presumed indifference. He had a dangerously dark look on his face and his eyes were locked on Dave. </p><p>As Az glanced at Dave and Kurt’s clasped hands, a look of repulsion passed over his face, but he shook his head and pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward, eyes moving back to the slushie cup in Blaine’s hand. “Cause if you throw that in Dave’s face, I’ll put your fucking face through a wall. Now I know I ain’t got the best reputation with Dave or Kurt here - hell, I pretty much hate all you fucking fags, but Dave’s been through enough. He don’t need no prissy little white boy who wears a hair gel factory on his head to throw that in his face just cause he’s dating your faggy ex boyfriend. So, I’m gonna ask again...you want to throw that away or do you want to find out what drywall tastes like?”</p><p>Dave was staring - speechless. He couldn’t pull his eyes off his former friend. This was not happening. Azimio was...helping them? What was happening? He glanced at Kurt who was looking equally perplexed. </p><p>Blaine spun to face Azimio - “This has nothing to do with you, you bigot.” </p><p>Az just looked bored. “Walk away queer boy.” He glanced back at Dave, a deep frown settling on his features. “Trust me - you need to walk away.” His voice was low and mean. </p><p>Kurt, who still stood defiantly, glaring at Blaine, quietly said, “He’s right Blaine - you need to leave. And you are never allowed to speak to me or Dave like that again - please go.”</p><p>Blaine glanced at Kurt and Dave - his eyes watering. Then he looked back at Az, “But you hate him…” </p><p>“Yeah - well, consider me just one big paradox. Now leave.” </p><p>Blaine stared at Dave, his gaze was hurt and sad and angry. “You don’t deserve him.” Then he dropped the slushie cup - blue ice spilling across the linoleum floor - glared at Az again and marched away. It was about as anticlimactic an end to the entire episode as any of them could have hoped for. However, Blaine’s exit presented a new problem - Dave and Kurt were suddenly alone with Az. </p><p>Dave took a step forward, his anger at Blaine was making him suddenly feel quite brave. “Az? What was that…” </p><p>Az, who was staring down the hallway after Blaine with an angry look on his face, turned to look at Dave. He shrugged, his eyes not quite meeting Dave’s. “No biggie - just didn’t want you to get your pretty little clothes all dirty, princess.”</p><p>Dave frowned - he knew his friend like an open book and he knew every tell Az had, so he knew that he was being lied to. “Az - just…” </p><p>“No.” Az’s voice was angry. “Look, I did you a solid by stopping...the human equivalent of corn flour from doing something shitty. Let’s just leave it at that. Catch ya later.” Az slowly walked past them and continued down the hallway, his head hanging low and looking absolutely alone. </p><p>Dave and Kurt stared after him - still clutching each other’s hand like life preservers. Dave could feel the hot burn of tears in his eyes, he tugged Kurt’s hand, “I need...Kurt…” Kurt nodded, and hurried them towards the nearest bathroom. </p><p>Kurt threw the door to the bathroom open, stepping aside while Dave ran to the closet sink, gripping it as tightly as he could without breaking the porcelain. He was breathing so heavily that he was worried for a moment about hyperventilating. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck had just happened? </p><p>Those things Blaine said...the things he insinuated! He was about to throw Dave’s suicide attempt in his face as a reason why he and Kurt shouldn’t be together. He had no right. He had no fucking right! He has no fucking idea what this is like! Dave could feel the tears burning down his face as his whole body shook with sobs. Fuck him. For the first time in a long time, Dave remembered what it was like to hate someone - he was pretty sure he hated Blaine. </p><p>And then there was Az - a saviour wrapped in a homophobic blanket. How the hell could he make sense of that? What the fuck just happened? This was not how his first day having a boyfriend was supposed to go! He shuddered and turned on the cold water. He was about to dunk his head under the icy stream, when a hand pressed some of the water to his eyes. </p><p>“Here. Let me.” Kurt’s voice was gentle. “Just lower your head a little.” </p><p>Dave did, moaning as Kurt pressed more cold water against his hot face. “Thank you.” He whispered.</p><p>“It's okay, I promise. And this is what boyfriends are for, Dave.”</p><p>“To splash cold water in my face? Sounds like a pretty easy entrance exam.”</p><p>“Well, there are other things - like shoulder rubs and cuddling and kissing and the occasional baked good…and standing up to bullies.”</p><p>“He...he was going to tell you that I’m not worth it because of what I tried to do, Kurt.” </p><p>“Then he’s an idiot and not worthy of my time and I’m really regretting dating him. Because you are worth it, Dave. No one is as worth it as you are.”</p><p>“I...I just can’t believe he…”</p><p>“Shhh, Dave. Just calm down and take some deep breaths.” Kurt’s voice was gentle and reassuring as he pressed more icy cold water to Dave’s eyes. </p><p>Dave gave out a shuddering breath and tried to focus on his breathing - the sensation of the cold water, the feeling of Kurt’s hand, how close Kurt was standing to him. He forced himself to relax - to ease the tension and hurt out of his body. He blindly reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the paper towel dispenser.</p><p>Kurt again said, “Let me.” And pressed the rough towel against Dave’s skin - causing Dave to whimper a little. Reaching up, Dave pulled the towel away from his face and turned to look at Kurt. “Thank you, can I get a hug though?” </p><p>“Oh! Of course.” Kurt slipped his arms around Dave - holding him tightly. Dave’s head fell onto Kurt’s shoulder, his eyes closed as he pressed his face into Kurt’s neck. He didn’t care if his Chemistry teacher got mad at him, he wanted to spend the whole morning just like this. The way Kurt was mummering  gentle reassurances and the way Kurt’s skin just felt so good against his face. It was as if Kurt’s entire body was a soothing balm for his fractured heart.</p><p>“Thank you, Kurt. Thank you for being here.” </p><p>“Not sure where else I would be.” </p><p>“I dunno either, but this...this feels so wonderful. I’ll have to think of some way to thank you.” </p><p>“Remember, boyfriends are responsible for buying baked goods...so why not start there?”</p><p>“Didn’t I buy you like two chocolate croissants this morning?”</p><p>“One was for Mercedes.” </p><p>“But you ate them both.”</p><p>“I never said I was going to give it to her.”</p><p>“She'll be so mad...but really, thank you, babe.” </p><p>“You’re welcome.” Kurt pulled out of the hug, but stayed holding Dave’s hands. </p><p>“Kurt - what just happened out there?”</p><p>“I...I honestly have no idea. Other than my ex going completely off the rails. But...Az...that I just don’t know what to think.” </p><p>“He - it was like he wanted to protect me.”</p><p>“I know. I...I’m as at a loss as you are, Dave.” </p><p>“He was lying, you know.” </p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“That crack about not wanting to get my clothes dirty - he lied. There’s something else happening with him.” </p><p>“He scared me.”</p><p>“Me too. I thought he was actually going to hurt Blaine…especially with what he said to me….”</p><p>“No. We’re not talking about that - those were ugly things being said by an ugly person. And as far as I’m concerned, you do deserve me! It’s me who is in question about deserving.”</p><p>“Kurt!”</p><p>“You’re giving me your heart - which is already so fucking battered and brusied - and you’re trusting me with it. I don’t deserve that - but I care so much about you Dave. So, I say fuck Blaine.”</p><p>“You do deserve me, Kurt. And I’m starting to think I deserve you too.” Dave stepped closer to Kurt. “I’m happy - even with everything happening in my life. I’m happy.” </p><p>Kurt smiled and stepped closer to Dave, wrapping his arms around Dave’s neck. “Good. Your face is still wet.” Then, despite the risk of water damage to his very nice Ted Baker shirt, Kurt kissed Dave - fiercely and deeply. </p><p>Kurt pushed Dave back slowly, until they collided with the far wall . Dave let out a loud moan as Kurt’s fingers tangled in his hair - giving it a small tug. Oh - okay, Dave thought, making out with his boyfriend in a school bathroom, there’s something else crossed off the old bucket list. And the feeling of Kurt’s fingers in his hair, the way Kurt was pressing against him and the sensation of Kurt’s lips on his - all of them just seemed to wipe away all that had just happened. </p><p>Who cared about Azimio or Blaine when they had this.  </p><p>***********************</p><p>Santana stared at Dave with an utterly incredulous look. She slowly sipped at her milkshake while trying to process everything that he’d just told her. Dave just continued to work at his own milkshake - wondering if he should bother logging this into the insane excel spreadsheet his dad had created for them. </p><p>Finally, Santana said, “So, here’s the thing - tomorrow, I am going to find Blaine and skin him alive.” </p><p>“Santana…”</p><p>“No. No, don’t you dare make excuses for him. I’m actually going to hurt him - how dare he!? How fucking <em>dare</em> he!” </p><p>“He’s angry and hurt… can you blame him?”</p><p>“Yes I can! He can be fucking angry, but to...but to bring up with happened in February - as some kind of ammunition for hurting you for being with Kurt… jesus, fucking christ! I’m going to…”</p><p>“Please don’t.” Dave asked quietly. “Santana - I know I’m not the big angry asshole that I used to be, or the fuckwad that thought with his fists before my brain ever even entered the equation, and I know people now think of me as this timid, scared and hurt guy - but I can fight my own…”</p><p>She waved her hand, annoyed, and interrupted him. “I’m not fighting your battles Dave, I’m protecting and defending my friend - who I care a lot about. And no one thinks of you that way, Dave - we all want to look after you and make sure you’re okay. I don’t care what fucking excuse he thinks would… no! He had no right!” She slammed down her cup onto the table, her face an angry mask. “I’m going to make him wish he wasn’t alive.” </p><p>“All I’m asking is that I don’t want to let this get… crazy. I just want to enjoy being with Kurt right now and forget that Blaine even exists.” </p><p>She shook her head, an angry look on her face, “Sorry big guy, but he and I are going to have words tomorrow. And he’s not coming out of it unscathed. And you won’t care - you’ll be too sexed out after tonight to worry about anything.”</p><p>“I told you, we’re not having sex.” </p><p>“Sure you are...Kurt’s been horny for you for months. He’s probably ready to hump your leg like a small dog in heat.” </p><p>“Whatever - it’s not happening, Kurt knows I’m not ready. And I’m not risking Burt getting mad at me. Just promise me you won’t kill Blaine or something - as hot as you think a lesbian prision romance would be, it’s not worth it.” </p><p>“Whatever - he crossed the wrong mama bear.” </p><p>“Well, you’ll probably have backup.” </p><p>“Oh?” Santana smiled, she did love a good gang up.</p><p>“Finn’s gunning for him too. So is Mercedes.” </p><p>“Good - we’ll all talk. Also, can we talk about the elephant in the room…”</p><p>“There’s an elephant?”</p><p>“Well, he’s the size of one - Azimio.”</p><p>“Fuck - I’m not sure what to...I’m really confused about that.” Dave shook his head - he’d been so confused over the whole Az thing. Seeing Az, having the guy stand up for him had felt so good and hurt so much. </p><p>“Maybe this is how his teeny tiny brain works - and he thinks he’s making it up to  you by being all weird and stalkerish.” </p><p>“Uh - well, I used to be all weird and stalkerish with Kurt, and now he’s my boyfriend. So, maybe Az is using me as an example?”</p><p>“Maybe he’ll kiss you in a locker room next?”</p><p>“Hey! I thought you promised not to talk about that!”</p><p>“You brought up… the video. All’s fair in love and war.” </p><p>“I’m ignoring you now…”</p><p>“Whatever you say, Winnie the Pooh...but really, if he’s freaking you out, say something.” </p><p>“Hey! I’ll have you know, Winnie is a style icon for me - all shirt, no pants. That’s the dream! And I promise I will.” Dave realized he probably should’ve told his dad. </p><p>“I bet Kurt loves that look…” Santana tailed off and Dave sucked on his milkshake, watching as Santana’s entire face broke out into a glowing smile...which could only mean one thing. And right on cue - Brittany slid into the seat next to her. Santana was instantly absorbed in the blonde girl.</p><p>Britt smiled brilliantly at Dave - “Hi Dave! I brought you a gift!”</p><p>“Hi Britt! And you did?”</p><p>“Yeah - look behind you!”</p><p>Dave spun in his seat, a huge smile breaking out on his face. Kurt was standing behind him, wearing a pair of impossibly tight jeans, a simple white button up underneath a grey and red striped sweater vest... he looked amazing. Kurt grinned at him - “Well, hello stranger.”</p><p>“Kurt!” Dave pushed his cup away and jumped up, “You’re early!”</p><p>Kurt nodded to the left of him where Rachel and Mercedes were standing, watching with lovestruck faces. “They wanted to see you too, so we grabbed Britt and decided to find you.”</p><p>Dave moved closer to his boyfriend. “Well, you found me.”  </p><p>“I did indeed.” Kurt reached up and ran his fingers across Dave’s cheek. “Hi.”</p><p>“Hi.” Dave rested his hands on Kurt’s hips...god, what was it about this boy that shattered every single one of his defenses? Dave hated public displays of affection - rightly so, as one of the last times he displayed one, he’d ended up horrendously gay bashed. But somehow, when Kurt was there - he just couldn’t give a flying fuck. So what if they were in the middle of a mall. He sighed, “I missed you...”</p><p>Kurt blushed and gave a small shrug, “You saw me yesterday...oh wait, I missed you too.”</p><p>“Hold on - am I winning at being more romantic in a relationship with Kurt Hummel?” Jesus, he was such a fucking sap for this peson! </p><p>Kurt laughed softly and leaned forward. “I’m going to kiss you now, ok?”</p><p>Dave smiled. And then Kurt was kissing him. In a public place. A very public place - the mall. And, their friends were watching. Everyone in the whole mall was watching him kiss Kurt Hummel. Well, this was more than intense - it was exhilarating!  </p><p>After a moment, Kurt pulled away. “How was that...?”</p><p>“I...don’t...I can’t even begin to explain what that felt like, Kurt.”</p><p>“You’re just too cute.”</p><p>“Thanks...so I like this - and I think I get why people like dating.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Surprise visits at the mall, public kisses, being able to see you and hold your hand - I’m really into this.” Dave’s whole body strummed with the need to be as physically close to Kurt as possible - it was unlike any of the other times he wanted bodily contact. This was a newer need - a very different need than ever before. It wasn’t quite as deep as when he was desperate to feel connected to someone back in February and March - it felt fresher. Yeah, that was the only way he could describe it. It felt fresh. He couldn’t wait till they were, somewhat, alone later that night.</p><p>“Well, those are just some of the benefits of dating me! Has Santana behaved herself?”</p><p>“Mostly - you know how she is. She made me buy a shirt though - one that wasn't covered with, and I quote, a bunch of nerdy crap that probably makes Kurt’s dick fall off from boredom.”</p><p>Kurt shook his head, pressed another kiss to Dave’s lips. “I promise Star Wars is not going to make my dick fall off - especially not Han Solo. Harrison Ford was quite the hottie back then.”</p><p>“Is that why you like watching the movies with me? And how did you know they were Star Wars?”</p><p>“I know you. And, I’ll never tell.” Kurt smiled, pecked Dave on the cheek and then stepped out of the hug to go say hello to Santana. Dave gave Kurt’s hand a small squeeze as they broke apart, then he walked up to Rachel and Mercedes, smiling shyly. “Hey guys.” </p><p>Hi Dave.” Mercedes pulled him into a hug. “You two look so cute together!” </p><p>“Yes! And we really think that this is the happiest that we’ve seen Kurt in a long time!” Rachel enthusiastically gripped Dave’s hand in so tight a grip that it felt like his hand was about to be crushed. “Honestly, you both look so incredibly happy!”</p><p>“Uh, thanks. I’m...i’m feeling pretty good these days.” </p><p>“We can tell! Even with...everything with Blaine.” Rachel’s voice does down an octave, a tone of disgust edging heavily on her words. “I’m so disappointed in him.” </p><p>“Rachel…” Mercedes warns softly, ‘“remember, we decided not to talk about him today.” </p><p>Dave watched with amusement as the two girls nearly sunk into an argument about whether <em>mentioning</em> Blaine was the same as <em>talking</em> about Blaine. As he listened, well only half listening if he was being honest, he glanced over his shoulder at Kurt. Who was being bombarded with some kind of story from Brittany and Santana. He glanced up and locked eyes with Dave, rolling his eyes dramatically. Dave gave him a wink. </p><p>He felt Mercedes slip her arm through his and tug him against her. He smiled down at her. “Hey Cedes.” </p><p>“So my mom wants to know if you and your dad can come for dinner next week - my aunt Ciarra is visiting and...well my mom wants her to meet your dad.”</p><p>“Wait, what? Your mom is trying to hook up your aunt with my dad?”</p><p>“So it would seem.”</p><p>“You should know, my dad is insanely awkward around women - I once saw a lady at the grocery store talk to him and he forgot his own damn name.”</p><p>“I bet he’s as adorable as you are with Kurt.” </p><p>“He did say he’s proud he passed down the romantic Karofsky gene.”</p><p>“If I tell my mom that, it will make her even more determined to make something happen with my aunt.” </p><p>“Should I warn dad, or let it be a surprise?” </p><p>“More fun for us if it's a surprise! But, I think we need to find ways to make it happen - we can talk tonight.”</p><p>“Tonight? I’m at Kurt’s tonight.” Dave frowned at her - although he already knew what was coming. He already knew what she was going to say.</p><p>“Rachel talked Kurt into letting me come for dinner! I wanted to spend more time with my Dave! Is that okay?”</p><p>“Mercedes - you know you don’t even need to ask! I want you around all the time.” </p><p>“Good - now shall we save Kurt from whatever argument Santana and Rachel seem to have gotten into?” </p><p>Dave glanced over to where Kurt was standing in the middle of what looked like a near shouting match between Rachel and Santana - something that Dave had come to realize was an all too common occurrence in the glee club. Keeping Mercedes’ arm looped through his, they made their way over to their other friends. Mercedes unhooked her arm from Dave and stepped right into the middle of the argument, while Dave immediately went and slid his arm around Kurt’s waist, tugging him close. </p><p>Even more bravery in public...at this rate he’s going to be dancing half nude in the Columbus pride parade! </p><p>He leaned close to Kurt, “So, I hear we’re having even more people at our small family dinner with your dad?”</p><p>“Sorry - be glad that I kept it to Mercedes, I think Tina was sniffing around for an invite. It’s just because we’re the new couple - so they all want to see how we work together.”</p><p>“Think Finn will stare at us again all night?”</p><p>“I think Finn is still mad that you’re staying the night and Rachel’s never allowed to.”</p><p>“He knows we’re in separate rooms right?” </p><p>“I’m not sure he cares. God…Mercedes is mixed in with this too?” He nodded at the now four arguing girls. “We’ll need to break it up soon.”</p><p>“Or we can just leave - I wanted to go to GameStop, but Santana wouldn’t let me.”</p><p>“Why?” Kurt laughed.</p><p>“It was boring and there was nothing for her to look at - wanna come with me?”</p><p>“Of course! Let me guess, are you going to stare at Assassin's Creed again, but not buy it because it’s too expensive?”</p><p>“No! Maybe I want to look at the Funko Pops.” </p><p>“Liar.” Kurt looked back at the arguing girls and sighed. “We should tell them we’re going…”</p><p>“What are they arguing about anyway?” Dave leaned in a little - as if that would be enough for him to figure out whatever was going on. All he could hear was Rachel’s soft whine. </p><p>“You won’t like it.” </p><p>“Ah. Blaine.” Dave’s voice dropped slightly. He really didn’t like how focused his friends were on Blaine. </p><p>“Yeah, I told you, you wouldn’t like it. I take you told Santana about what happened yesterday?” </p><p>“Yeah. I did. Hope that was okay.” Dave instantly felt a pang of worry that he’s screwed up somehow, that Kurt didn’t want to have Blaine’s antics broadcasted to the world. He tried to stamp down that sense of worry- it was insane to think that - but this could be the other shoe, dropping on his head. </p><p>“Of course I don’t! I’ve told everyone - I almost feel sorry for Blaine.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Cause tomorrow - Mercedes, Rachel and Santana are planning on confronting him. And I think Finn is planning on doing something - he’s super mad that Blaine treated you like that.” </p><p>“I honestly think Santana might hurt him.” </p><p>“After Monday, I’m not sure I care enough to warn him. I say, let the four of them go after him.”</p><p>Instantly, the sense of worry slips away and is replaced by the continued sense of surprise and joy over having friends who protect him like that. He smiles and squishes Kurt against him a bit more. “I don’t deserve such good friends.” </p><p>Kurt turns to him - a look of worry on his face. “Please tell me that you’re joking.”</p><p>“Well, mostly.” </p><p>“Dave! You can’t actually believe that. You deserve all the love - your friends love you!” </p><p>“Of course I know that, Kurt. It’s still just...overwhelming and hard to believe sometimes.” </p><p>Kurt sighs - “Okay. I just don’t want you thinking you’re not deserving of friends - or me - because that is just not true, Dave. Please believe that.” </p><p>“I do! Kurt, I really do...sorry, you’re going to have to put up with me being like this for a while.” </p><p>“Well, just don’t get too caught up in your head! You have me now - all of me - and I plan on romancing the heck out of  you! Now, I’m going to make our friends follow us to GameStop where I’m going to talk you into buying that damn game.” </p><p>Kurt gave Dave another kiss on the cheeks and walked over to the bickering foursome. He started gesturing wildly, pointing at Dave and then at GameStop. All five pairs of eyes turned to look at Dave, he gave a small wave, which Kurt returned. And he could almost hear Rachel, Mercedes, Santana and Brittany all sighing deeply - as if Dave was some new age Romeo. And in that moment - Dave realized something. </p><p>He kinda liked feeling like that. He kind of liked feeling like a romeo for Kurt. And no matter how much he told himself it was silly, it felt so good to feel like that. The closest that he’d ever gotten to feeling that way had been during his grand gesture on Valentine’s. He also remembered loving the way Kurt had responded to him that week. Kurt who had done so much for him since February - Kurt who should be made to feel like a king every single day.</p><p>As he walked over to his boyfriend, he decided that he was going to make Kurt feel that way again, which meant another grand gesture. Oh yeah, gorilla-gate was gonna be small potatoes compared with what he was gonna do for Kurt next - cause this time Kurt was his boyfriend, and that meant he was going to pull out all the stops. </p><p>Yeah, Dave smiled broadly, Kurt was gonna get wooed out of his mind. </p><p>*************************</p><p>Dave had never really been fussed over - even when his mom was around, he’d mostly been left to his own devices. His mom had always been too busy with her church group. Often, it had felt as if his mom was almost entirely absent - unless Dave had done something bad, then she came down on him, full of fire and brimstone. And his dad - until February - had spent probably eighty percent of his time working. Especially after the divorce, his dad just wasn’t really around. So, even from a young age, Dave did most things alone -  he’d gotten used to being on his own.</p><p>He learned how to cook for himself. He did his own laundry. He even managed his own bills - thankfully with a healthy allowance from his dad. But Dave rarely experienced what it was like to be fussed over or looked after. </p><p>In his eighteen years, he could maybe count on one hand how many times someone made a big deal of him. No one ever really made sure he had seconds of dinner if he wanted them, or that he had enough to drink or was warm enough at night. No one ever made him feel special and unique. He’d spent most of his life alone - trapped in his own psychosis. Unless he was at Az’s house - cause Az’s mom fucking loved Dave. He kind of missed the goodie bags Sandra Adams used to press into his hands every night when he left. </p><p>But then February happened - and people started caring for him and fussing over him. And he liked it. But while his dad might fuss over him a lot, nothing compared to how he felt every time he was at the Hummel-Hudson household. </p><p>The moment he walked into Kurt’s house, especially if he was there for dinner, he was treated like royalty. </p><p>A lot of it came from Carole - who essentially saw him as her third son, something that caused more than one crying fest from Dave, normally while she was holding him tightly. She usually started in on him the second the door closed - Are you warm enough? We can turn up the heat. Make sure you let Dave have the sofa - he likes to lie down! Do you want more to drink, Dave? I noticed you liked Dr. Pepper more than Coke, so I bought you a case. I saved you the last corner piece of lasagna. Are you cold? Here take this blanket I knitted - oh and please, make sure you take it home. </p><p>For some reason, a lot of her concern was over how hot or cold he was. And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he loved every fuckng second of it. If she wanted to make him a hundred cups of hot chocolate and pile the blankets on him - he wasn’t going to complain.  </p><p>But when Burt got involved, the fussing became even more intense. Burt - as Kurt explained dozens of times - loved Dave. Which, when he thought about the first time they’d met, was a pretty big miracle. Burt’s brand of fussing was to give Dave a friendly ear that was not attached to an overprotective father or a vigilant best-friend (now boyfriend). Burt often would just grab Dave and drag him off to sit and talk in the garage - just to make sure Dave was doing okay. Or, on those days when Dave still really struggled emotionally, Burt would just sit next to him - arm slung over his shoulder - and watch tv. Or, Burt would magically produce Dave’s favorite cookies - double stuffed oreos - just because he wanted to make sure Dave had things around that he liked. And if Burt sneaked a few cookies, who would be the wiser...certainly not Dave. </p><p>Dave felt safe around Burt Hummel - something that he knew meant a lot to the older man. At first, even though Dave struggled on a daily basis to keep his head above the torrent of sadness that surrounded him, he often worried that Burt still held him in contempt for everything that happened last year. They had only talked about Dave’s past once - while they were sitting in the garage. Dave huddled in an oversize hoodie, still recovering from the zoloft fog, had felt an overwhelming desperation to apologize to a man who was handing him a precious lifeline. </p><p>
  <em>“Sir - I’d like to apologize.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t call me sir, and what for?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Last year - I’ve never said I was sorry to you. And I just want you to know, I am so sorry for everything. All of it - what I did to Kurt, what I did to your family, forcing you to pay tuition at Dalton. I’m so so sorry, sir.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Burt had sighed and cast his eyes up at the ceiling. “Dave - okay, we’re going to talk about this just this once. And then we’re never going to bring it up again, okay? But I want you to know - I came very close to having you arrested last year.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know. I was surprised you never did.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Something stopped me - I think it was intuition. But I knew it would be the wrong move - although, I do wish that my intuition had told me to talk to you. I feel like I could have prevented some of what happened.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please...don’t.” Dave had started to cry. “It wasn’t your responsibility - I did this. I did all of this - last year, what I tried to do to myself - this is my fa...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Stop. Yes, last year - that was you. But I’ve also talked to your dad and he’s told me a little about what your therapist has been saying - I think you’ve had some real problems that no one took the time to actually address before now. So, last year it was you, but he also wasn’t you. Not the you that I’m starting to see everyday now. And what happened to you - what you’ve gone through in the last month - none of that was your fault. And as for the boy you were last year, well I consider that person gone. You’ve changed - I’ve seen it, Kurt’s seen it - we all have. How about this - I accept your apology for last year. But you are never to blame yourself for what happened in February - sound good?” </em>
</p><p><em>Dave - unable to speak - just nodded and cried, relishing the feel of Burt’s soft flannel shirt pressing against his burning face and a pair of strong arms holding him tightly. </em><br/> <br/>It often felt like that moment really changed how Burt interacted with Dave - although, if pressed, Dave couldn’t really tell you how. But it meant that when Burt fussed over Dave, he was doing it in a way that made sure Dave never revisited what Dr. Anderson was now calling ‘Dave’s Room of Torment’. And Burt was good at helping Dave find a million different ways to settle into his new life - whether that was showing him how to change the oil on his car or explaining why he continually rearranged his tool bench on the days Rachel was over. Burt never fussed over Dave like a father who had found Dave dangling from the rafters - Dave was just Dave to him. </p><p>And Dave had to admit, he was kind of excited to relish in Burt’s brand of fussing all night tonight.  </p><p>But then he’d arrived and realized that tonight was going to be so much worse than he’d expected. He’d sort of expected the same kind of fussing that had happened on Sunday, which had been far less crazy than normal. With Carole offering to lend him one of Finn’s sweaters if he was cold, or Burt deciding that Dave and Paul should be introduced to the wonders of western films - and yeah, The Magnificent Seven was a pretty awesome movie. But he’d noticed the fussing was...far less intense on Sunday, almost as if Dave had been given a free pass so he could spend more time with Kurt. Today, however, was a very different story. </p><p>The moment he’d walked in with Mercedes on his arm, Carole had descended. She’d made him his favorite dessert - chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and there was extra frosting in the bowl for him to lick. Oh, and she’d remembered that he seemed to like ice cream with his cake, so she’d bought a tub of the oreo for him. Plus, she always noticed that he seemed cold when he was over - he never was - so she bought him a big hoodie from Old Navy just in case he needed it tonight. And, for goodness, he needs to let her take his coat - honestly, does no one in this house have manners towards their guests. </p><p>Mercedes, meanwhile - also a guest - was left to remove her own coat and given the impression the cake was entirely for Dave. </p><p>He’d then been pulled into the kitchen - not even given the chance to kiss Kurt - and sat at the table with a bowl that was half filled with leftover frosting. Then Burt started in, telling him to come to the garage, where he was thinking of resealing the concrete floor - a skill Dave obviously needed to learn. Dave did notice the way Burt’s eyes flicked towards Rachel with a hint of apprehension. </p><p>But then it got worse! Rachel started in on him with the fussing - like she was already part of the family. Was Dave comfortable enough? Maybe, since they were going to watch a movie, Dave should go change into his pajamas or a pair of sweatpants. And did Dave want something to drink - there was caffeine free Dr. Pepper. </p><p>Rachel’s brand of fussing, it seemed, was to treat Dave like a five year old child. </p><p>So, when Kurt and Mercedes appeared in the kitchen doorway, watching with an amused look on their faces while Dave was bombarded with questions, Dave stared pleadingly at his boyfriend and friend. Kurt glanced over at Carole, clearly about to interrupt and drag Dave off, when Finn barreled into the room, face brightening when he saw Dave - “Hey man! Wanna go play some Call of Duty? Oh! Is that frosting! Can I have some?” Dave happily handed off the bowl and started to inch off his chair to escape into the living room while Finn started shovelling chocolate frosting into his mouth, simultaneously asking Carole what was for dinner. </p><p>Mercedes grabbed Dave’s hand and tugged him out of the room. She paused in the doorway to the living room, trying hard not to laugh, “Is it always like this when you come over?”</p><p>Dave gave a small shrug, “Yeah - this is a little more intense than usual, but this is normal.”</p><p>Kurt walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head slowly, and stepped up to loop his arm around Dave’s waist. “I’m so sorry for my crazy family - I swear you’d think Dave was the second coming or something like that.” </p><p>“Is it bad that I like it?” Dave muttered softly. </p><p>Mercedes laughed softly and walked into the living room, leaving Kurt and Dave alone. Kurt turned to tuck himself into Dave’s arms. “It’s not bad - you deserve to be pampered, I just wish my family would calm down a little. Also, I really want Rachel to realize she’s not…” he glanced towards the kitchen, “...married to Finn.” </p><p>Dave - highly enjoying the feeling of Kurt in his arms - sighed deeply. “Hey, be glad they came to their senses.” Dave leaned down and pressed his face into Kurt’s hair - inhaling deeply. Kurt’s shampoo made him smell like mint and honey, and for all the times that Dave and Kurt cuddled or hugged, Dave would never get tired of that smell. He smiled into Kurt’s hair, “You smell so good.” </p><p>Kurt squeezed him tighter, “I’m so glad you’re here. Come on, let's hang out in the living room till dinner - unless you want to go listen to my dad talk about concrete?”</p><p>“Living room please.”</p><p>Kurt nodded and moved out of the hug, a huge smile on his face, and pulled Dave into the living room. Dave carefully lowered himself down onto the couch, in his usual spot with Kurt on one side and Mercedes on the other. He nestled himself into the soft cushions, stretched his legs out in front of him, letting himself lean against Kurt. The moment one of Kurt’s arms wrapped around him, he relaxed into the embrace - sighing softly. </p><p>He wanted to just sink into this feeling - to just disappear into the warmth and peacefulness of Kurt’s embrace and just be, but he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. By the fussing he got at the hands of Kurt’s parents, by the unwavering friendship Finn offered him, by the ease with which Mercedes just accepted him as a friend, and by the adoration he got from his boyfriend. He still felt ill at ease - like something was coming. Which it wasn’t. Nothing was coming - nothing was going to hurt him or damage the relationship he now had with Kurt. No, nothing was going to do anything to him - he was safe. He sighed, slipped his hand into Kurt’s and let his body relax.<br/> <br/>Mercedes was already flipping through the channels - she glanced over at Dave. “You look so relaxed and happy - it’s such a good look on you.”   </p><p>“Thanks - I’m trying really hard to stay this way.”</p><p>He felt Kurt stiffen slightly. “What do you mean try, Dave?”</p><p>Dave noticed that pretty much the entire Hummel-Hudson crew, plus Rachel, had joined them in the living room and the Mercedes had switched off the tv - which meant he had their undivided attention. He sighed, remembering to do...something...to get Kurt back for this one. The guy could’ve just let that one go by without comment. </p><p>He glanced over at Burt - who was sitting perched on the arm of his favorite recliner. It’s kind of weird to see Burt perch on something - it’s too casual a gesture for him. But Burt was watching him and Dave one hundred percent knows that whatever he says will be immediately relayed to his dad. </p><p>Which he was actually fine with. </p><p>There’s a soft prodding from next to him - Kurt his squeezing his arm with a gentle, “Dave?” Oh, right, he actually hasn’t said anything in a while - and they were all staring. Right, he hated being stared at. He gives a small internal sigh and starts talking. </p><p>“I - um - well, I guess I just kinda keep expecting things to go wrong, you know. Like...sorry, this is hard for me.” He rubs his face - huh, his face feels really scratchy, and then he remembers he forgot to shave this morning. But then he feels Kurt give him a one armed hug and he feels a little braver. But he deliberately doesn’t look at Kurt - he kept his eyes on Burt. </p><p>“First it was February - like, I poked my head out of the closet and...well, you know what happened. Then it felt like I just kept hitting road bump after road bump - if it wasn’t my depression, then it was the way my medication was making me feel and then it was my weight getting out of control. Then my loneliness and constantly being worried I’m going to disappoint someone or hurt someone again. Then just as I’m starting to feel good - or at least a little normal - everything with my mom happened. And...it’s exhausting - I talk about this with Dr. Anderson a lot, but I’m exhausted. But - now I have friends, great friends, and I have a boyfriend - which I neve thought I’d ever get to even say! So...as much as I want to just be happy, I’m still a little...worried.” He pointedly did not mention Blaine or Az.</p><p>It’s silent for a moment, then quietly Carole says, “Dave - listen to me, okay?”</p><p>Dave just nods, his eyes flicking over to her, “Yeah.”</p><p>“What you’ve gone through - not a lot people could come out smiling as much as you do. I know that things still feel a bit gloomy and like you have no idea what is coming, but I want you to know that you have a lot of people looking over you - your dad, Kurt...all of us in this room. So, even if something does come along that hurts you or worries you - it won’t be like February.” </p><p>Dave just nods, giving them a small smile. He feels a rush of warmth as Kurt wraps both arms around him, squeezing tightly. Kurt kisses him lightly on the back of his neck - which kind of tickles and makes him feel even warmer. He squirms slightly.</p><p>Everyone is silent for a moment, as if they’re all letting Dave and Carole’s word settle over them, then the moment passes and Carole and Burt are standing and talking about dinner being ready soon. Unfortunately, it’s just as Burt is stepping out of the living room, but still in hearing range, when Finn speaks up - “Well, one thing we all gotta watch out for is Blaine - cause I’m not letting him hurt Dave or my brother.” </p><p>Burt paused - just for a microsecond - his head turning back to look at the five of them sitting in the living room, face coloring at Finn’s words. Then, silently, he followed Carole into the kitchen. Dave turned to look at Kurt, both knowing instinctively that Blaine was going to come up again at some point tonight. </p><p>-/- </p><p>Dinner was… boisterous, to say the least. They sat around the rather large dining room table that Kurt swore they never actually used, but with seven people there really wasn’t an option. And there was so much food - mostly carbs - which Kurt later confessed was mostly because Carole worried Dave would go hungry. But Dave wasn’t about to start complaining, especially not while Carole was spooning another massive serving of her mac and cheese onto his plate. </p><p>He would just conveniently forget about that diet spreadsheet tonight.</p><p>But dinner was also pleasant and fun and Dave felt like a part of a family - even if his dad wasn't here. He wondered what his dad was doing. Was he out for dinner with the people from the law firm he interviewed at? Was he having a drink somewhere? Had he headed off to Georgetown as promised to report back to Dave? Was he lonely? That last one bothered Dave, and he had to shove it down, hard, so it wouldn’t hurt too much. He despised the idea that his dad might be lonely - which was a bit strange. Up until this year, he knew his dad had been lonely - a lot. But he’d been so trapped in his own little ball of delusion and anger that he’d been unable to see just how bad his dad had been hurting. But now that he had, well looking after his dad felt like a priority. So, yeah maybe it was a good thing he and his dad were moving to DC together - otherwise he would spend most of his freshman year worrying. </p><p>And he really hoped his dad wasn’t lonely tonight. Of course, he also refused to think about why his dad might not be lonely… that just made him uncomfortable. </p><p>But, besides Dave’s conflicted thoughts about his dad, dinner was pretty awesome - until it wasn’t. Well, as they say in the movies - all good things...</p><p>It was while Dave was taking his second helping of that really good chicken in a spicy tomato sauce that dinner became...less pleasant. He watched as Burt - who had been quiet for the whole meal - put down his fork and cleared his throat - loudly. Everyone looked up and noticed Burt’s worried expression. “So, I have a question.” </p><p>Carole reached over and gripped Burt’s hand. “Honey, what’s wrong?”</p><p>Burt looked right at Kurt and Dave - “What exactly is it that Blaine is doing to you two?”</p><p>Dave and Kurt looked at each other, both silently assessing the whole situation - Dave knew that Kurt had told Burt about the breakup, but he wasn’t sure what specifics had been shared. And he really wasn’t sure if Burt knew anything about Blaine’s little surprise on Monday. And although he was sure Kurt really didn’t want to divulge some things, Burt wasn’t going to take no for an answer here - fathers did have a good way of wrangling information out of you. </p><p>As Dave and Kurt locked eyes, Dave tried to mentally tell his boyfriend that he could not take the lead on this - it had to be Kurt. Kurt put down his fork, mimicking his father’s pose, and sighed. “I guess if I said that it’s nothing, you wouldn’t believe me.” </p><p>“No. You know better than that, Kurt. Now I’d like to know what’s going on - if Blaine is causing problems, especially if they’re harmful to either of you, I’d like to know. And so will Paul.” </p><p>Right - Dave thought - he could just imagine his dad’s reaction. His dad would quite literally tear Blaine limb from limb - or file a slander suit against him. Kurt looked anxiously at Dave - obviously not sure what to do and clearly panicking over it. But then - as always seems to happen in Dave and Kurt’s lives - someone else decided to open their big mouth. </p><p>“Blaine confronted Kurt and Dave at school on Monday and said some really awful things - he was going to throw a slushie in Dave’s face until Azimio stepped in and stopped him. But then Azimio said a bunch of homophobic things or something - so he was like this dark avenger. But Blaine might have it out for Dave.” Finn’s voice was slightly muffled by the amount of food he seems to have crammed in there, but every word was still legible… unfortunately.</p><p>Dave is completely certain that if Kurt was a sith lord and could do it, he’d force choke Finn right now. His entire face is flushed in anger - Finn just shrugs and goes back to his huge plate of food. Dave takes one look at Burt and then just ducks his head, wishing he could put the hood up on hoodie and hide like a Jawa. Burt’s face is...unlike anything Dave had seen before. Even that day in the hallway last year when Burt had slammed him against the wall - he hadn’t looked this angry. He’s not sure what’s making Burt angrier - the obvious fact that Blaine has a target lock on Kurt and Dave or that the forbidden name had been dropped.  </p><p>He can only imagine the phone call between his dad and Burt that’s going to happen later - especially since Az is involved. Cause mentioning Az can set off Paul Karofsky as only few other things can. And what sets off Paul, will definitely set off Burt.  </p><p>Burt leans back in his chair and presses his fingertips to his forehead - in either a move of exasperation or deep thought - more likely the former. Dave watched him for a moment - he can almost track the older man’s thought process as it happens - he seemed to process everything exceptionally fast. Almost deciding in a split second how to handle this, and shockingly it was not with anger. He sighed and picked up his fork again. “Okay, thank you for telling me that Finn. Dave, Kurt - if Blaine approaches you again, at all, you’re to tell someone immediately. And, Dave, you should have told your dad that Az...was involved.” </p><p>“I know sir, I’m sorry. He actually seemed like he was trying to help or something.” </p><p>“Either way - he should know better than to try something. Now - why don’t we just try to have a nice dinner, and then you guys can go hang out with a movie and your dessert.” </p><p>Even Dave knew that was code for - we want you to leave the room so the adults can talk about this new troubling development. Dave nodded and went back to eating his mac and cheese, smiling when he felt Kurt bump his leg. </p><p>-/- </p><p>“I said I was sorry, Rachel! I mean, Burt needed to know what Blaine is up to - and if Az is going to be popping up again, Dave’s dad will want to know!” Finn squirmed on the recliner, desperately to get away from his girlfriend's jabbing finger. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter Finn - we don’t want Dave getting in trouble!” Rachel hissed as she assaulted Finn’s ribcage with her index finger again. </p><p>Mercedes, who was sitting, cuddled up against Dave, on the couch, cleared her throat. “I agree with Finn.” Instantly, every pair of eyes - except Dave’s - shot to her. </p><p>They were sitting in the living room with Limitless playing on the tv and empty dessert plates littered around the coffee table. Dave had one arm around Kurt, who was snuggled into his side - the one not occupied by Mercedes. </p><p>“Mercedes,” Kurt whispered, “why? We don’t want to make dad or Paul upset!”</p><p>Mercedes shook her head, “Look - and Dave I’m not saying this because I don’t think you can’t handle yourself - but your dad he’s worked really hard to make sure you’re safe and Az is a threat. Even if all he did was save you from Blaine, he’s still a threat.” </p><p>Rachel immediately sat up, a defiant look on her face, “Yeah but…” </p><p>“No!” Dave interrupted, he was staring down at his feet, a frown on his face. “Mercedes and Finn are right. Az - he’s dangerous. I don’t know what he wants or why he did what he did. But I should have told my dad.” </p><p>“Yes, but Dave - we’re here to protect you.” Rachel sat up, moving away from Finn, and kneeling on the floor by Dave. “We’re not going to let him - or my former friend Blaine - do anything to you.”</p><p>Dave smiled. “Thanks Rachel, but I think it’s bigger than just you guys looking out for me. I think...I think dad did something - or said something - to Az. That’s why he’s stayed away. And whatever it was, it kept him away, until now. And my dad needs to know.” </p><p>“Kurt,” Mercedes leaned forward to look over Dave, “didn’t Mr. Karofsky tell you something about Az?”</p><p>“No - all he said was that I needed to look out for Dave and to tell him if Az came near Dave. It was pretty clear that something happened - but I have no idea what. And he’s never told you anything either, right babe?” </p><p>Dave feels a happy and warm flush when Kurt calls him babe and he knows that a sappy grin has just settled on his face. But he still shakes his head, “Nope. And Az is almost a forbidden topic in my house.” </p><p>“Well, no matter what - we need to still look out for Dave!” Rachel’s voice is firm. “If Blaine is going to try something again - I think we need to be ready!” </p><p>“Rachel,” Kurt’s voice is soft, “there’s less than two weeks of school left…”</p><p>“All the more reason. Santana and I are thinking of reinstating the Bully Whips.”</p><p>Dave’s head flops back on the couch with a loud moan. “You’re going to do that just for me?”</p><p>“Yes...although, Santana is going to talk to Blaine tomorrow. Which might mean that he’ll just leave you alone no matter what.” </p><p>“What's she planning to do…”</p><p>“I’m not sure, but nothing pleasant, I assure you.” </p><p>Dave closed his eyes and moaned softly. All he’d wanted as a boyfriend - a nice normal thing that every gay teenager wanted. He didn’t want some 90210 bullshit drama. This wasn’t quite what he meant when he told his dad that he wanted to be a normal teenager for a while. </p><p>Kurt snuggled against him, reaching over and rubbing his stomach a little, which made Dave almost start purring like a cat. Until he realized he actually was purring, and then blushed deeply when Mercedes started laughing at him. And just like that, they were done talking about Blaine and Az and the heaviness of life outside of the living room and a shirtless Bradley Cooper. </p><p>While Mercedes and Rachel started arguing about which of them Bradley would find more attractive, Kurt leaned up to Dave’s ear, “Will your dad be really mad?”</p><p>Dave shook his head, “Probably. I really should have talked to him. I kinda feel like an ass now.” </p><p>“Don’t. He was busy and it was too weird - just tell him you don’t think Az is all that important.”</p><p>“That won’t help much. But I will...thanks, babe.”  </p><p>“I love hearing you call me that. Oh, and I bet you a million dollars, Bradley would pick you.” </p><p>“Only if he takes us both.”  </p><p>-/- </p><p>Dave dried his hands on the intensely bright pink towel that seemed to be in neverending supply for the upstairs bathroom - the whole room was done up in various shades of pink. From muted pastels to an intense almost hot pink - the room occasionally felt like an assault on the senses.  But Dave kinda dug it - it was so perfectly Carole. He rinsed his toothbrush and picked up his little bottle of mouthwash.</p><p>As he rinsed his mouth, he could hear loud voices coming from the hall - Finn and Kurt were arguing over something. He thought he heard the words Bradley Cooper - they couldn’t still be arguing over Rachel’s belief that Bradley Cooper would naturally fall deeply in love with her. Dave smiled at himself in the mirror. He had changed into his Star Wars pajamas, which had earned praise from Finn, and an old McKinley High Athletics t-shirt that he had ripped the sleeves off years ago. It was old and ugly, but it also nicely hid his weight gain, so he wore it a lot. </p><p>Rachel and Mercedes had left about an hour earlier - with Mercedes practically running from Rachel and Finn’s disgusting lusty goodbye. But she’d braved the scent of sex long enough to hug Dave for a solid two minutes and to give Kurt a quick peck on the cheek. But after she’d gone, Kurt had pulled Dave into a long and luxurious kiss - just to “show up the straights.” Which had actually ended in Finn sighing happily, while watching Kurt and Dave kiss. </p><p>Now, Dave was slowly getting ready for bed, after playing one round of Portal 2 with Finn, while Kurt watched and asked incessant questions - all of which Dave happily answered. It had been one of the best nights he’d had in ages. Dave flexed his arms a little as he put his toothbrush in the glass next to the sink. Despite the bulk he was carrying around, he really could see how developed his arms were getting thanks to Finn, Artie and Sam going with him to the gym. He turned to head back to the guest room, when his phone dinged with a message. His dad.</p><p>
  <em>Hey kid! Wanted to check in. </em>
</p><p>Dave’s dad was the absolute worst at texting - often either writing the world's shortest messages or composing entire novels in just one message. But he tried - sometimes with hilarious effect. As awesome as the night had been, it was kind of weird not having his dad around - they’d been inseparable since February, so it was weird not to talk all the time. He braced himself against the sink and wrote back, </p><p>
  <em>Hey! Things are good here - just getting ready for bed. How’s DC? </em>
</p><p>He got a response in seconds - <em>Call?</em></p><p>
  <em>Sure - give me five, I’ll head to my room. </em>
</p><p>He slipped out of the bathroom, only to find Finn standing right outside the door - smiling. “Hey Dave!” </p><p>“Uh, hey Finn. Sorry I took so long.” </p><p>“Nah - don’t worry - Kurt can take hours, so I’m used to waiting. See you in the morning? Mom’s making pancakes!” </p><p>“Sounds great - and yeah, I’ll see you in the morning. Night Finn.” </p><p>Finn disappeared into the bathroom with a very loud, “Good night!”, leaving Dave alone in the hallway. He made his way towards the guest room, pausing in front of Kurt’s room. Kurt was sitting on his bed, flipping through a book. </p><p>“Hey.” Dave leaned on the door jamb. </p><p>Kurt smiled and looked up. “Hey!” </p><p>“So, my dad wants to talk - can I come say goodnight after I’m done?”</p><p>“Of course! I’m still annoyed that I couldn’t convince my dad to let us share a bed.” </p><p>“It’s okay Kurt.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Kurt looked extremely disappointed. “You should go talk to your dad, I’ll leave my door open so you can come in and say goodnight after.” </p><p>Dave nodded and headed to his room. He actually really liked the guest room - it was bright and cheerful. The whole room was painted a very light brown, but accented by bright yellow curtains that shift in some unknown draft. There’s a large reproduction of a painting of a yellow house, by some long dead artist hanging above the bed and a bookcase filled with Kurt’s old childhood picture books. And a large queen sized bed that was covered by the softest duvet he’s ever felt.  He has genuinely thought about stealing it a few times. </p><p>Dave shut the door and settled himself, crossed legged, onto the bed just as his phone rings - exactly five minutes. </p><p>“Hey dad.” </p><p>“Hey kid. How’s it going?” </p><p>“I’m good - just sitting on the bed.” </p><p>“Yeah? I’m doing the same.” </p><p>“How’s the hotel?” </p><p>“Fancy! I didn’t realize they booked me into such a nice place - I have a king sized bed. And you should see my shower!” His dad sounded extremely excited - more so than Dave had heard him in a while. </p><p>“Sounds nice - are you relaxing?” </p><p>“Yes - I am! Even took myself out to a fancy dinner!” </p><p>“I’m glad. You deserve this dad.” </p><p>“Thanks kid. Oh! And, guess where my hotel is!” </p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Right in the middle of the gay area of town! I think you’ll love it here, there’s so many rainbows! I bought you a shirt from this great little store - I hope you like it. And I had lunch in this fun little gay pub.” </p><p>Dave’s entire chest fills with...something. Happiness. Pride. Love for his dad. Love that his dad was doing this - that his dad spent the day looking around the gay village in DC. That his dad was doing all this for him. “Dad…”</p><p>“Yeah”</p><p>“Thank you for all of this. I love you.”  </p><p>“You’re welcome and I love you too. I bought a shirt that says Proud of My Gay Son. I might wear it tomorrow.”</p><p>“You’re awesome.” </p><p>“Meh - I’m just me. Okay kid, not to bring the mood down, but we need to talk about something.” </p><p>Uh oh. Dave knows that tone - it’s not a good tone. “Yeah?” He already knows what’s coming.</p><p>“You should have told me about what happened on Monday, Dave.” </p><p>Dave sighed and shook his head. “Dad...please…” He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t always want his dad fighting his damn battles for him. But he immediately feels a pang of guilt over having kept something from his dad. </p><p>“No! Dave, I need to know these things!” His dad’s voice rises slightly in pitch. Annoyed and upset. Dave’s stomach instantly starts to roil. </p><p>“Dad?” The idea of disappointing or hurting his dad is - too extreme. It’s painful in its remembrances of what he did in February. “I’m sorry… please don’t be mad.” he knows his voice is quiet and sad.</p><p>He heard his dad suck in a sharp breath, “Shit. Dave...no, I’m sorry, look, I’m not mad at you, but...I don’t want anything getting in the way of all the progress you’ve made. And this Blaine guy - if he threatens that…”</p><p>“I know. But you’re not allowed to kill a teenager, dad.” </p><p> “I can do far worse.” </p><p>“I know. I promise, if it happens again - I’ll tell you. But I don’t think it will - really! I think he needed to get it out of his system and…”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter - I know you’ve come really far, but if this sets you back...god, I won’t let that happen. And Azimio, Dave? Azimio actually talked to you and you didn’t tell me?!” </p><p>Okay - that one Dave did have cause to feel bad over. “Yeah, I’m sorry dad. I should have told you about that.” </p><p>“That boy has been told to stay away from you - I’ll be calling his mother when I get back.”<br/> <br/>“Dad - you don’t have to…”</p><p>“Yes, I do. He got his warning in February - and I want to know why he thought he could break that agreement.” </p><p>“What agreement, Dad? Are you ever going to tell me what happened? It would help so I could know what to expect.”</p><p>There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone. “Maybe when I get back - not over the phone. Dave, I don’t want this to turn into an argument, but please promise me that if something like this happens again, you’ll talk to me. Or Dr. Anderson or even Burt, if I’m not around?”</p><p>“I was going to talk to her about it tomorrow.”</p><p>“Good. Just be careful Dave - you and Kurt both. I know you want to seem tough - and you are, I mean that should be evident to anyone who knows you. But you’re still hurting. So, please be careful.” </p><p>“I will dad. Can we talk about something else?” </p><p>“Sure - want to hear about my day in the gay area! I think I told like a hundred people about you.”</p><p>“Yes! And the job interview - don’t forget that!”</p><p>“Well...I gotta admit, I really like this firm, Dave. They…” </p><p>Dave listened with only half an ear as his dad started describing DC and how amazing Dupont Circle was and what the law firm was like. But Dave was also caught up with thoughts of what happened on Monday. Not the Blaine thing - that’s not really important. Blaine was just a hurt ex-boyfriend who needed to work through his pain, something Dave knows all about. But he’s more preoccupied with Az. This was the first time that his dad has mentioned that there’s some kind of agreement that should be keeping Az away from Dave. An agreement that, up until this week, had kept Az at arms length. </p><p>So what changed?</p><p>What made Az suddenly break that agreement and step up to protect his ex-friend? And why? </p><p>He lay back on the bed, listening to his dad while making all the appropriate noises - but in his mind, he’s drifting along a shared history between him and his friend. Trying to find something - some clue - that would give a hint as to Az’s actions on Monday. </p><p>So far, he’s not able to find a damn thing. </p><p>He listened to his dad talk about DC, some place called Foggy Bottom - which made Dave snort a little - and the job interview for the better part of an hour. Until his dad suggested Dave head to bed - it was starting to get late. Although, his dad’s sudden urgency kind of told Dave that there was probably more going on than wanting Dave to get some sleep. And the idea of his dad heading out to a bar or something kind of gave him the shivers - especially if he had to think about his dad...hooking up or something. But then again, his dad sorta deserved to have some fun. </p><p>That just wasn’t the kind of fun he wanted to think about.</p><p>After they’d said goodnight, Dave sadly left the duvet behind and went to see Kurt - who in end was infinitely better than some old duvet.  </p><p>Back when they were just best friends, saying goodnight was an easy and mundane affair - but saying goodnight to a boyfriend, well holy fuck. Now that’s a completely different story - and there was nothing mundane about it! Until Sunday, saying goodbye or goodnight to Kurt had included a lot of really nice hugs or squeezing each other’s hands and promises to see each other in a couple days or to talk soon or whatever. But now, now that Kurt was his boyfriend, he got a kiss goodnight. And not just one - no, as Dave had said goodnight to Kurt, he’d gotten like a million kisses. Now, as his boyfriend, Dave got tossed back on the bed, while Kurt hovered over him, kissing him senseless.</p><p>It had only been four days since his first real relationship started, and he was one hundred percent certain that he would never get tired of kissing another guy - especially Kurt. It felt amazing - the way Kurt’s lips moved so effortlessly across his. The way Kurt would deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue into Dave’s mouth, the way Kurt moaned and gasped slightly when Dave tried the tongue thing. </p><p>The entire sensation was...intoxicating. </p><p>But then Burt’s gentle cough from the doorway had sent Dave hurrying back to his room, with a soft “Goodnight Burt” as he shut the door. Once he was safely in the solitude of the yellow room, he pulled off his shirt, leaving him in only his Star War pjs, and he slipped into bed - immediately shutting off the light. At home, he would probably sit up reading for a few hours - but it had been a long day, and he just wanted to sleep. Hopefully to dream of kissing Kurt.</p><p>Lying in the dark room, he listened to the gentle busyness of the Hummel-Hudson household going to bed. However, now that the light was off, he was rethinking how much he liked the whole yellow room thing - those curtains seemed to glow in the dark. </p><p>He closed his eyes and sank into the sounds beyond his door. He heard Burt and Carole’s low voices as they walked down the hallway to their room, Finn’s not so low voice as he reminded Kurt about something to do with glee, and then Kurt’s very much not so low voice telling Finn to get out of his room. Until finally, a sense of quiet descended over the house - and Dave sighed in the darkness, snuggling deeper into this supremely magical duvet. He needed to remember to ask Carole where she bought it. </p><p>He was so warm and soft, and was decidedly <em>not</em> thinking about the fact that his boyfriend was like less than fifty feet away in his own bed. He was utterly okay with the fact that he could - theoretically - get up and go see Kurt. And he was even more okay with the fact that he really wasn’t allowed to - yeah, he was one hundred percent okay with that. But Burt had a rule. And Dave was going to be a good boy and abide by that rule - no matter what. So, the faster he got to sleep, the less likely he was to waver in his convictions. <br/> <br/>Dave had just let out a very deep and loud yawn when he heard the door to his room open. Almost instantly, he was wide awake again and sitting up in bed. He frowned at the dim shape of his boyfriend standing by the door - eyes bright in the dark, watching Dave. </p><p>“Kurt?” Dave whispered harshly, “What are you doing?” </p><p>Kurt didn’t bother responding, he just pushed himself off the door and moved stealthy towards the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping in. He reached up, and tugged on Dave’s shoulder, until Dave slowly lay back down - bracing himself on his elbow - a torrent of anxiety building in his stomach. “Kurt!” Dave’s whisper sounded loud - far too loud - in the dark room. “What the fuck? You’re dad…”</p><p>“Quiet!!” Kurt shushed and nestled as closely as he could to Dave’s chest. “Just lie down, Dave.”</p><p>Dave opened his mouth to protest, and then he felt Kurt’s very soft hand run slowly across his bare chest, and he simply just gave in. He wasn't strong enough to resist this - and he didn’t want to be. He lay down, and shuffled closer to Kurt - rather unsure of what he should do now. </p><p>They’d cuddled in every possible position before this, and had certainly cuddled on a bed, but this was different. This time he was half naked, they were breaking the rules and they weren’t just best friends anymore. So, he didn’t quite know what to do - should he hold Kurt, or something. And should he start kissing Kurt? And, oh god, were they going to have sex? </p><p>Plus, he was pretty used to snuggling into Kurt’s chest, or cuddling into Kurt’s side with his head in the crook of Kurt’s shoulder. But then he feels Kurt pushing him onto his back, and Kurt’s snuggling into his side and Kurt’s putting his head on Dave’s shoulder - pressing his face into Dave’s neck. </p><p>This was entirely new for them - it was never Kurt snuggling or cuddling into Dave, it’s always the other way around. But slowly, completely worried he was doing the wrong thing, Dave brought his arm up and laid it gently across Kurt’s body, holding him. He felt Kurt sigh against his skin - sending a huge rush of gooseflesh across his body. </p><p>“You don’t have a shirt on.” Kurt’s whisper was barely the ghost of sound, but it sounded and felt so perfect in the dark. </p><p>“I can’t sleep with a shirt on - I get too warm.” Dave whispers back. </p><p>“In all this time, I never realized how...furry you are.” Kurt trails his hand through Dave’s chest hair.</p><p>“Is that okay...I mean, there’s not much I can do about it. I guess I could shave my chest.” </p><p>“Don’t you ever shave your chest - guys who do look weird, and I really like it. It feels so soft. Like you're my big teddy bear.” </p><p>“Emphasis on the big, huh?”</p><p>There’s a sigh in the dark. “Dave...don’t. You’re not fat...you’re a big guy, but you’re not fat.” </p><p>“Thanks...I still feel fat. But did I tell you, my dad has us both on a diet.”</p><p>“You’re not fat - you’re perfect, Dave.”</p><p>Dave presses his face into Kurt’s hair, smiling. “Thank you. I don’t always feel all that perfect.” Oh god, the way Kurt felt in his arms, the way he smelled, the way his breath tickled Dave’s neck...he could easily get used to this for the rest of his life.</p><p>“You are - you’re my perfect Dave the bear cub. And I’m really happy right now.” </p><p>“They did call me Yogi at Scandals. And I’m very happy right now too. But...” </p><p> “But?” Kurt shifted slightly so he could peer up at Dave, his eyes seemed so bright </p><p>“We shouldn’t be doing this, Kurt. Your dad will be so mad!” </p><p>“Dave - let me worry about my dad. I just want to be here with you right now.” </p><p>“I just don’t want him to get mad at me - you know how I worry about stuff like that.” </p><p>“He won’t - he probably one hundred percent expected me to sneak in here anyways.” Kurt trailed his hand down Dave’s chest again - causing Dave to shiver. “Did that tickle?”</p><p>“A little - do it again.” Dave whispered - his voice trembled slightly. All of this was so new - so intense! A million new sensations were slamming into him. And he was starting to feel turned on. He moaned softly when Kurt’s fingers ran gently over his chest - gasping when Kurt’s fingernail caught on his left nipple. </p><p>“You have a gorgeous chest Dave.” Kurt pushed himself up on an elbow and pressed his lips to the space right in between Dave’s pecs. “You’re so sexy.” He started to gently rub and massage Dave’s right pec. Dave almost groaned - no one had ever touched him like this before. His eyes fell shut as Kurt’s hand slowly moved lower - rubbing circles into Dave’s stomach - it felt so good and Dave found himself arching his back a little, just so Kurt would press his hand deeper into Dave’s flesh. Even his hangups about having such an ample midsection couldn’t stop him from enjoying being touched in a way he’d only ever dreamed of being touched. </p><p>Before all of this - last year, which felt like a lifetime ago - Dave would lie awake at night and wonder what it would feel like to be touched as if he were desirable. For far too many nights, he would try to envision that it was a girls’ hand touching him - worshipping his chest, rubbing circles into his stomach, stroking his cock and fondling his balls - but those fantasies had felt cheap, false, and unreal. But when it was a strong man’s hand touching him in that same way, he would moan with pleasure at how aroused it made him. And it didn’t matter whose hands were touching him, as long as it was a guy’s, it just felt right. Sometimes it was Kurt, or his hot neighbor - Mr. Allen - or some insanely hot celebrity, usually Chris Evans. And on the odd occasion, it was someone from the football team - sometimes Strando or Puck, or even Artie, and once - humiliatingly - it had been Az. </p><p><em>That</em> particular fantasy had forced Dave out of bed and straight into a very cold shower! </p><p>After prom, when he’d really started to realize that he couldn’t stay in the closet anymore, he’d really embraced the fantasy of having a guy touching him. And as he started to get more and more comfortable with the idea that he was gay, he realized that he couldn’t wait for the day that a guy - pretty much any guy - would touch him like this. He’d tried a few times to make it happen at Scandals, where the guys either rejected him outright or treated him with paternalistic interest. So, until now, the idea of being touched like this by a guy had remained a fantasy. </p><p>But now, Kurt’s touching him and it feels like his whole body is on fire. He moaned again as Kurt’s hand wandered a bit lower. Oh fuck, he’s so insanely hard. He wants to be touched - he wants to know what this feels like. But even so, the flurry of anxiety over what might come next is too strong to ignore. </p><p>Kurt’s fingers are playing at the edge of Dave’s pajamas - creeping under the fabric and brushing at the coarse curls of pubic hair. God, Kurt is so bold - he’s just exploring Dave’s body like this...and every spot that Kurt touches seems to burn so hotly. Dave whimpers, unsure of what to do. </p><p>Kurt’s hand had slipped entirely into his pants now - the tips of his fingers brushing against the base of Dave’s cock. The moment they do, Dave's eyes snapped open and realization dawned over what’s about to happen. He instantly broke out in a cold sweat and his breaths started coming in raggad gulps.  </p><p>No. No. He’s not ready for this. He’s not ready to have sex. Not like this anyways - he wants Kurt, oh fuck does he ever want Kurt. But he’s not ready! They haven’t even been on a proper date! And he doesn’t want to do it in Kurt’s guestroom, when they’d been strictly forbidden from sharing a bed by Kurt’s dad! </p><p>He shook his head - forgetting that Kurt can’t see him. Then he heard Kurt whisper so softly, “God, Dave - you’re big!...”  </p><p>And yeah - he is big! He’s always felt really good about that - knowing he was probably slightly above average. In the last year, ever since he really started accepting himself, he’d felt this sense of pride that he might actually be a real hot piece of meat. But he’s just not ready for <em>this</em>. </p><p>Kurt continues, his voice harder now, needier, “...And you're so hard. I think I want to see what it would feel like in my mouth…”</p><p>“Kurt...don’t…”</p><p>“Shush, it’s okay, don’t worry about my dad.” Kurt clearly doesn’t realize that Dave’s talking about something entirely different than his anxiety about Burt finding out. </p><p>“No, Kurt…”</p><p>“Dave - I promise, it’ll be okay.” Kurt plants a kiss on Dave’s lips and starts to shift down Dave’s body, pressing kisses to Dave’s chest as he goes. And, oh god, it feels like heaven - like every press of those lips are everything that he’d ever wanted! But...he can feel the burn of tears on his face. And, yeah, if there was ever a sign that he’s not ready to have sex, it would crying over the idea of it.  </p><p>“Kurt!” Dave’s voice rises slightly - he still managed to keep it at a whisper, but he’s louder than before. “I’m saying no, Kurt. Please stop.” </p><p>Kurt immediately froze, yanking his hand back from beneath Dave’s pajamas like they’d just burst into flames. Sitting up, he reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. Dave blinked rapidly at the sudden and blazing light - he pushed himself up onto his elbows, sniffling softly. Kurt looked horrified, he opened his mouth, but Dave beat him to it. </p><p>“I’m sorry Kurt…”</p><p>“What? What on earth do  you have to feel sorry for? My god, Dave...I just assumed, I never even asked...god...Dave...I’m so…” His voice was still a hushed whisper, but the anguish he felt was so evident. He reached out and brushed the tears away from Dave’s cheeks.</p><p>“It’s okay, Kurt. I’m just not ready, okay? I’m just not ready for that.”</p><p>“I feel so bad! God, what is wrong with me!? I should have talked to you before… I’ve just wanted it for a while now and I got carried away.” </p><p>“I want it too, Kurt. I really do. But, this is still all very new to me - I’ve never been with someone before, and as stupid as it sounds, I want it to be a little special, okay? I at least want to go on a date first. And not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed what you were about to do just now, but I want this to be something more than just...a blow job in the dark when we’re not even supposed to be in the same bed.”</p><p>He watched Kurt sit there - head hanging low. Then, Kurt sighed softly, “I’m so sorry Dave. That was so insensitive of me - to just assume like that. And I want more too - I want it to be special too! Fuck, I feel so awful right now.” </p><p>“Please don’t. It was kinda flattering - you getting all turned on just cause you liked rubbing my chest. And I was - fuck, still am turned on. I’ve only dreamed about being touched like that - so it… it meant a lot. I just...I just need a little time before I’m ready to start having sex. Let me at least take you to dinner first.” </p><p>“Dinner would be lovely. And you’re not mad?” Kurt looked up to meet Dave’s eyes - he looked so worried. </p><p>“I’m not mad. Thank you for stopping when I said no. God, I sound like one of those PSAs we always had to sit through in sex ed.” Dave shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Wanna lie down again? Just no funny business - and you have to go back to your own bed soon.”</p><p>Kurt just nodded and lay down to cuddle against Dave’s chest again - this time leaving the light on. Dave wrapped an arm around Kurt...and then after thinking about it, pushed his other arm under Kurt’s body, so he could hold his boyfriend. He pressed Kurt into his large body, holding him firmly in his arms and he pressed a kiss onto Kurt’s forehead. Kurt sighed softly.</p><p>He loved the way Kurt’s body just seemed to fit into his, the way Kurt had his arm thrown over his stomach and was holding him. He realized that Kurt wasn’t just holding him - he was gripping him - clutching at him - almost desperately. “You okay, Kurt?”</p><p>“Yeah - Dave...can I tell you something?”</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“You are so precious to me, Dave.” </p><p>“What? Kurt...you’re special to me too.” </p><p>“No. You’re precious to me. The fact that… I almost never got to have this. That you… Dave there are days when I replay Valentine’s over and over in my head and I think, if only I’d let you in then… but I didn’t and then we all almost lost you. And the man I’ve come to know since then… God, he’s the most precious and special and perfect man. And...and now you’re mine. All mine. And I get to hold you. And I get to kiss you… and touch you...although, in the future I’ll be asking first. But, Dave Karofsky, I am so proud to call you my boyfriend.” </p><p>Dave lay there - letting Kurt’s words settle over him. He didn’t feel like he was any of those things. He didn’t feel special or precious or unique or anything. He just felt like… Dave. The burn of tears was back - he blinked hard, forcing the tears away. He ground his jaw slowly...unsure of what he’s about to say. But then, as if on its own volition…</p><p>“I meant what I said in February, Kurt.” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That I love you.” </p><p>“Oh Dave…”</p><p>“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, yet...course I’m hoping you will eventually. But you’re so precious to me, Kurt. This...this is just… I’m so proud to be your boyfriend.” </p><p>Kurt burrowed his face deeper into his chest - almost trying to press himself inside of Dave’s skin. His voice was muffled, “You know I’m not leaving this bed now, right?” </p><p>“Your dad is going to be so mad.” </p><p>“He’s also a light sleeper - so he already knows I’m in here and he hasn’t kicked me out yet. I’m turning out the light so we can go to sleep, I just want to sleep here with you.” </p><p>“Okay.” Despite this being completely against the rules, Dave smiled. Sleeping in the same bed as his boyfriend, definite bucket list material. “I’m sorry if I snore. Want me to set an alarm so you can sneak back early?” </p><p>Kurt rolled away and switched off the light, grabbing Dave’s phone as he did. “Yes, please.” The ghostly blue light of Dave’s phone spread long shadows across the walls and ceiling. Dave set an alarm for five in the morning, then passed the phone back. </p><p>“Kiss me goodnight.” Dave whispered in the dark. He smiled into the feeling of Kurt’s soft lips against his own. Kurt rolled onto his side, away from Dave, but snuglged back into Dave’s broad chest. </p><p>They curled up together - bodies tight like joined punctuation marks - with Dave’s arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend. He felt Kurt breathe out in the dark. And just before he drifted off to sleep, Dave pressed his face into the back of Kurt’s neck - kissing the skin there - drifting down into sleep awash in the scent of his boyfriend’s skin. </p><p>And right then - Dave’s last conscious thought was - oh, so this is why coming out was worth it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title from: New Mood by Lizzy Plapinger (https://youtu.be/QdDdDxDFNUM)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Baby, I'm ready to go (or, What Paul Did, Does, & Will Do), Pt.1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is the start of a 3-part minisode featuring Paul's adventures in DC, with flashbacks to various actions in February-March 2012 in Lima.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: violent descriptions of suicidal actions, homophobic language</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul Karofsky hated travelling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was quite certain he would always find it exceptionally unpleasant. Everything about it just gave him a headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, it was a struggle right from the get go - even getting to the airport on time, which you would think as a forty-four year old man, he’d be able to do easily, was a struggle. And then having to navigate an airport nearly gave him heart palpitations every time. Airports were confusing and insanely expensive! Why the fuck would he want to spend fifteen dollars on a coffee and muffin?! Plus there were the cramped airplane seats, shitty airplane coffee, long line-ups, cranky airport workers, the confusion of finding a taxi or whatever… the entire thing was just awful. It was exhausting and mundane and never ceased to put him in a really bad mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, at ten in the morning, as he raced towards the arrival doors of the Ronald Reagan International Airport in Washington, DC, Paul could feel that bad mood settling over him. And that was a very bad thing. He needed to be on his game today - he needed to make sure that he was a shining example of what a DC lawyer would look like. Because, for the first time in almost twenty years, he was about to have a job interview. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused and ducked into a bathroom to make sure his suit wasn’t too badly wrinkled or messed up from the plane. He swerved to avoid colliding with a rather tired looking college kid in a pair of baggy shorts and a Madonna t-shirt. The kid mumbled something as he shuffled out of the bathroom - there was something about him, maybe the tired and worn expression on his face that reminded Paul of Dave. Sighing and trying to squash down the rising anxiety he felt over leaving his son alone, Paul stepped in front of a full length mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked good - better than he’d expected for getting up at five in the morning for his eight-thirty am flight. He’d decided to wear his good charcoal grey suit, the one that fit him exactly right - not too tight around the shoulders and back, it highlighted his pleasantly large arms and broad strong chest, and the pants sat perfectly on him - hugging his ass in a way he sometimes wished more people would notice. He did, however, notice that the middle button of the blazer was straining against his now very ample belly, so he decided to leave the blazer open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shockingly, it had been Dave who suggested he not wear his usual white shirt, and instead wear a dark blue shirt with a black and forest green striped tie. He smiled, remembering his son looking mildly uncomfortable while he put on a fashion show in the middle of their upstairs hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad! You’re not wearing any pants! Can you please - you know - not walk around in just your boxers!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul pivoted slowly - making sure that the suit looked presentable. Giving his jacket a tug and straightening his tie, he sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. He had to do this - he was doing this for Dave - another battle in the war to ensure that his son had the life he so rightfully deserved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the handle to his small suitcase, adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag and marched determinedly towards the exit. As long as he kept reminding himself of what was at stake, he could keep that damn bad mood at bay.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strode down the long corridor, not really bothering to take note of the large vaulted ceilings and the huge windows from which you could actually see some of the national monuments. He didn’t really have time for those right now - he was planning on trying to take a walk along the National Mall at some point, maybe after the interview, but right now he just felt too focused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brain was too preoccupied with thoughts of home - of Dave - and of the interview ahead of him. When Dave had mentioned Georgetown as his first choice for schools, Paul had immediately started researching law firms in the area. And after a lot of poking around - plus asking some old law school friends - he’d stumbled across the firm of Thomson, Parker &amp; Jauz. A firm that specialized in human rights defense cases, which was something he had always envisioned being his thing, and not the small town parking tickets or landlord squabbles that he faced on a daily basis.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea that he could actually get to live out some of the dreams he’d had as an idealistic law student, it warmed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he hurried down this seemingly unending hallway, he felt himself being pulled back towards February - and the awful days that followed Dave’s suicide attempt. Paul had so far been unable to really express to his son exactly how deeply those events had impacted his life. Dave genuinely had no clue that his actions had probably saved his dad’s life. They have given Paul the wake up call he’d so sorely needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before February - and this was absolutely true - Paul had been slowly sinking into a deeply stagnant and unhappy life. He’d been falling deeper and deeper into a depression with every passing day. He hated his job at a law firm that barely inspired him to sign his name to a legal brief, much less actually practice law. He was mourning the loss of a marriage that had ended years before Linda had actually packed her bags, called him a soulless god hating atheist and walked out of his life. And he was struggling to find the energy needed to help understand a teenage boy he barely acknowledged. No, in the months - years really - leading up to February, Paul had been falling fast into a very sad and very lonely life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Dave’s problems last year hadn’t woken him up - he’d dealt with them like every other issue in his life. He signed a form and then passed the buck to someone else to deal with. He’d managed to ignore that he actually had a son. Much less a son who may have needed his father so desperately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that had been the biggest problem of all - he’d routinely ignored this huge obligation that lived in his house. An obligation he’d taken on when Linda had decided her religion and church were more important than her son - signing over her parental rights to him. But even with the knowledge that Dave needed him, he’d ignored his own son, or treated him like a mild irritant that he just hoped would go away. So, he knew that everything that happened last year - some of it came down on him too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dave got in trouble over bullying Kurt, sure Paul had scolded him and voiced his disappointment. But then he’d made the problem go away with a phone call and a signature on a form - like it was a parking ticket and not his son literally screaming at him for help. Then, he’d disappeared back into his office to face another stack of documents or dull legal briefs. And while Dave was having an emotional breakdown, what did Paul do? Paul patted him on the shoulder and said “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” And then went back to the office. For years, Paul had treated Dave like he was this slight annoyance who happened to live in his house. Not once had he actually been a real father to his son. Hell, he’d barely been a father when Linda was around, but once she’d left, Paul felt like he stopped being anything at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the worst day happened. He shuddered slightly - thinking about it. Thinking about how he’s been sitting in his office, trying his best to focus on work, while something niggled at the back of his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been this utterly unfamiliar feeling - what Burt had later identified as fatherly instinct. A realization that made Paul feel even worse - he’d forgotten how to feel protective of his own son. That whole morning, he’d felt uncomfortable - unable to put his finger on why. Was it the way his secretary kept giggling or how he had slammed his hand in his car door or something else? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been sitting at his desk, staring at a photo of Dave - one of the few recent ones where the boy actually smiled - from the championship game last year, when he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave. It was Dave. Something was wrong with Dave! Dave at breakfast - so quiet and so sad. Suddenly, the uncomfortable feeling exploded and turned into this all encompassing pain - a raw and fiery ache in his stomach. And all at once, like a lightbulb turning on, he knew he had to get home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had raced home - breaking more than one speeding limit. He had burst into the house - screaming Dave’s name - the pain had grown and grown on his drive home, becoming a torrent of fear and panic. He’d raced up the stairs and when he ran into his son’s room - Paul’s world ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stumbled slightly as he walked through Reagan airport, remembering the way Dave’s legs had been suspended above the ground - kicking furiously - with one foot caught on the back of his desk chair, giving him just enough leverage to still hold his weight. He could remember the noise - that unbearable, inhuman noise that Dave had been making. Gasping chokes that were coming out of his body like screams. And the desperate way he was clawing at the belt that was pulled taunt around his neck - fingernails fighting to catch on the smooth leather. And the purplish color of Dave’s face - the way his eyes bulged or the way every vein stood out on his face as he fought to get a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That image was the last thing Paul Karofsky remembered of that day - of course most nights it was the last thing he saw before falling asleep. Everything else was clouded in absolute blackness. Except for one thing - he remembered screaming Dave’s name again and again and again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They said later, at the hospital, that if he hadn’t gone home when he did, it wouldn’t have mattered that Dave’s foot had caught on the chair. He would have slowly strangled himself to death. A fact that continued to send icy rivers through Paul’s veins almost daily - the fact that he’d been maybe minutes away from losing his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And although Dave had lived, something else had died that day. The stagnancy and sense of lack that had surrounded Paul had perished, and in its place a warrior had been born. He’d shrugged off the useless person he’d been, he pushed aside his own sense of inferiority and unhappiness and he embraced having a son who needed him. He’d become a fierceless protector of the most precious thing in his life - Dave. And, yeah, maybe he’d crossed a few lines in creating the protective environment he now enclosed his son within, but who the fuck cared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That day had been the first step in a long series of steps to bring him here - to a job interview that might just give him a second chance at being the man he once remembered dreaming of being. A man who had aspirations outside of moving to some small town in Ohio, just because the mother of his child happened to want to join a church there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Paul Karofsky was ready to become something new - he was ready to become the lawyer he’d always wanted to be. He was ready to continue evolving into the father he didn't realize he had the capacity to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he started to approach the exit doors - he let himself fall back into those terrifying and numbing days after Dave’s attempt on his own life. He used them to fortify himself. He let himself remember everything he’d done, doing so made him ready to face this. It made him remember how strong he could be - how powerful he could be - when protecting his Dave. He smiled to himself - he was ready to continue to fight, ready to take on the next challenge with the same fearlessness as every other obstacle he’d faced. He composed himself, sucked in his stomach a little,  and ran a hand over his goatee - smoothing it down. Then he strode through the doors.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b> {February 2012 - One Day Post Suicide Watch }</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thurston High loomed large in front of Paul Karofsky as he stepped out of his BMW. He regarded the rather drab beige walls with purple markings and decals - it was an overall ugly school. Ugly outside and ugly inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the second time he was visiting - the first had been the day after Dave’s suicide attempt, to talk with counsellors or teachers or anyone who could shed some light on what had happened. And although they gave him a general sense of the events leading up to his son trying to take his own life, what had really struck Paul as the apathy and lack of empathy he’d felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been one of the first steps which had brought him to today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He adjusted his blazer, before grabbing the appropriate bulging envelope of legal documents he needed from the passenger seat. With a small, cold smile on his face, he slammed the car door shut and walked - no stalked - towards the front doors. Determination and anger radiating off of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he reached the doors, he paused to watch a Lima Police cruiser pull up next to his car. The door swung open and his very dear friend Officer Sandra Carlson got out - her bright red hair burning in the winter sun. She walked quickly towards him, her duty belt bopping with every step. She stopped just in front of him, “Ready to do this, Paul?” Her grin was vicious and feral like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than anything.” He handed her the envelope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His anger was burning with the same white hot intensity that had driven him every single second for the last week. He had planned for this - he had worked for this. Spending hours reading every hateful post on Dave’s Facebook. Hours quietly teasing out what had happened from his fragile son. He had spent hours - days - building this case. And shockingly it had been an easy case to build. Hours talking to police, the Allen County prosecutor - who happened to be a friend - and all the other lawyers he needed on his side. Hours carefully tracing out an understanding of what had happened from the internet, from Dave and from the few people Dave could still call friends. Yes - yes, he was absolutely ready for this. In fact, he was looking forward to this. He had the law on his side, the law and the anger of a man wronged.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his phone buzz as he and Sandara reached the main office for the school, he paused to check - it was a message from Burt, a man who yet to waver in his friendship and support for either Paul or Dave, regardless of Dave’s actions in the past. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dave is sleeping, I’m running down to the cafeteria for a coffee but Kurt is with him. Good luck over there!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunted his approval and pushed through to the main office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same as every other high school office - a large receptionist desk that seemed to act like some kind of barrier to the inner sanctum of learning. He could see a few staff or maybe teachers milling round back there - he wondered if any of them had taught Dave. He wondered if any of them had turned a blind eye to his son’s suffering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked up to the lady sitting at the desk. “Hi there, I’m Paul Karofsky, I’d like to see the principal.” A principal who so far had yet to reach out and check on her student - something he had certainly noted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The receptionist regarded him with a vague sense of disinterest - that would be her first mistake. “Mrs. Garcia is in a meeting, so she’s not available at the moment.” She was about to turn back to her computer when she noticed Sandra standing behind him - hand on the butt of her gun - and the woman had the good sense to look a little nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at her - it was not a friendly smile. “What meeting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked confused at this question. “Excuse me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked, what meeting? Is it a meeting about the rampant homophobia that caused my son - a student at your school - to try and commit suicide five days ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman gaped at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because, if it is not - then I don’t really care about it. Now, call her and get her out here or I will grab your computer and throw it through that window. And I’ll keep throwing things until she comes out here and faces me - and no, my police officer friend won’t stop me. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, she picked up a phone and spoke rapidly in it. Paul looked up and locked eyes with a young man - maybe ten years his junior - who was staring at him very intently. He bared his teeth at the guy. The guy looked away, guiltily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to see a shorter, middle-aged woman with short cropped greying hair, wearing a long floral skirt and a deep purple blouse approaching him, she had a warm and welcoming smile on her face. He scowled at her, “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held out her hand, “I’m Amanda Garcia, the principal. I’ve been meaning to call you and express my deepest sympathies for what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, so she had meaning to call him. How benevolent of her. He felt like laughing. The woman had not once reached out to him. In fact, the woman had been utterly absent the day Paul was here talking counsellors - her sympathies were worthless to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared at her hand as if it was diseased. He didn’t bother touching it - eventually she just dropped it, an uncertain look crossing her face. He gestured towards Sandra. “First, I’d like you to meet Officer Carlson of the Lima Police Department - she’s here on official police business, as well as to ensure that I act accordingly as an officer of the court. She’s also here as my friend and someone who very much likes my son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Garcia nodded at Officer Carlson, then smiled again at Paul. “Uh, well, again I just wanted to say on behalf of my staff…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held a hand up to stop her, “I’m sure your sympathies will mean a lot to my son, rather than you people actually doing anything about the homophobic bigots that you have running around here as students.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky, I understand you’re upset - but that’s uncalled for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at her for a moment, quelling the urge to put his fist through a wall. Glancing back at Sandra, who nodded coldly at him, he slowly smiled at Mrs. Garcia, it was a smile that forced her to take a step back. “No, Mrs. Garcia, I’m not upset. Upset is far too simple a word - I’m angry. I’m furious at you and your pathetic school for allowing my son to endure what he endured at the hands of your students. Not one teacher reached out to help him! Not one counsellor offered support! Not one member of your administration tried to stop what was happening! You let them torture him for a week! You and the utterly useless, apathetic idiots that you call teachers here! How fucking dare you tell me what is or what isn’t called for! My son tried to hang himself, you heartless bitch!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Principal Garcia took another step back, her eyes widening. But Paul was just getting started. “As far as I see it, what your school did was a clear case of criminal negligence - you damn well knew what was going on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held her hand up, “We…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be quiet - I’m talking!” His voice rose slightly, “And if you tell me that you had no idea, that is a straight up lie - someone spray painted the word ‘FAG’ on my son’s locker, you would have noticed. Your students spit in his face - you would have noticed! Your students posted hateful and harmful hate speech all over his facebook! You nethanderthal students told my son he should go kill himself - you would have noticed!  So, yes, Mrs. Amanada Garcia, you and any one of your teachers would have absolutely noticed! You just didn’t want to! Your school and the actions of your teachers was a form of negligence - leading directly to my son causing extreme and nearly grave injury to himself. So...and I want you to listen to me very carefully, Mrs. Garcia…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s face went from just angry to an ice cold fury as Sandra held out the large envelope, “I am going to destroy you and your school. As of today, I am issuing a civil litigation against Thurston High, naming every single one of your teachers as being responsible for the injury caused to my son - the paperwork for that case is being delivered to the school board right this moment, along with the paperwork citing you and your school and being criminally negligent in the attempted suicide of one of your students.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relished the way she paled, finally looking afraid as if understanding the gravity of the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t done with her yet, though. He leaned in a little, that cold smile still on his face. “But this is just for you. I am filing a court case against you as the reason this was allowed to happen in this school. And as members of the court, Officer Carlson and I get to hand deliver these papers to you - just so I can see your face. For too long administrators and teachers have turned a blind eye in this town to the way our children are treated - we value popularity, sports and whatever demented ideas of normalcy we might have above the lives of our children. Well, that ends. I am going to have your job, Mrs. Garcia. I am going to do everything in my power to make you, and the teachers who I entrusted with my son every day, pay for what was done to him. Unless you do one thing for me...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused and stared at her as she took the thick envelope, she looked at him fear and confusion written across her face. He could see her wanting to fight back, he narrowed his eyes - challenging her to do so. She eventually swallowed thickly and asked,“What is that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he stepped a little closer, “Bring me Nick Thompson.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy was all smooth swagger and straight up cockiness as he sauntered into Mrs. Garcia’s office - Paul hated him instantly. He stood there, with a shit eating grin plastered on his face as if nothing in this entire world could touch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he was so wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick grinned at his principal and cast a dismissive glance at Paul as he walked in. Then he saw Sandra, and Paul watched in glee as he grew pale with eyes the size of saucers. Paul wondered if he had already figured out what was going on.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit down Mr. Thompson.” Mrs. Garcia pointed to the chair next to where Paul was standing. Paul liked to stand in these kinds of situations, it was always more intimidating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on, Mrs. Garcia?” The little shit actually had the decency to sound frightened, but only slightly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul didn’t wait for Mrs. Garcia to answer - “How old are you Nick?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what?” He turned to look at Paul - a large and physically intimidating man, dressed well, standing next to a very angry looking police officer. “I’m eighteen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you turn eighteen?” Paul continued to look pointedly at Nick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“February fifth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul smiled - it was the same smile that he’d given Mrs. Garcia earlier - and he leaned forward and said in a voice that had appeared only in the last five days, it was filled with anger and fury. “I’m Paul Karofsky. You know my son, Dave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looked like he was about to shit himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul leaned in a little further. “Do you know where David is right now? No, somehow I don’t think you do. A homophobic bigot like you wouldn’t bother to care about your victim after you’ve finished with them. Well, he’s in the hospital - he tried to kill himself. Now, I know you were the one who happily told your whole school about my son being gay. And I know you were the one who started telling him to kill himself. And I know you were the one that spray painted FAG on his locker. How do I know this? Because you really are as dumb as you look, Nick. And you posted all of it on his Facebook. You happily said it in dozens of chat messages sent to my son. And in so many text messages. Well, you know, Nick, I should thank you for that. Because it led me straight to you. And I, my friend Officer Carlson here, the Lima Police and the Allen County prosecutor all took copies of those posts and chats - multiple copies. And do you know what that means, Nick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little shit again had the decency to look frightened and shake his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means I have evidence. So much evidence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as the boy’s lip trembled. “Tell me, Nick...are you frightened? Maybe you’ll cry. Because my son cried - he cried a lot. So, please, go ahead and cry…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky!” Mrs. Garcia cried out. He just glared at her - so, she was willing to protect this shit, but not Dave. Interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at Sandra, “Officer Carlson, am I being unbecoming of a member of the court?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in the least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so we continue. So, Nick, here’s what all that means. I have evidence that you directly caused my son to do harm to himself - which was criminal intent to cause injury. And the content of that evidence also proves this was a hate crime. So, Nick, in just a moment, I am going to have Officer Carlson here put you in handcuffs and you are going to be arrested and escorted out of this school. Then you are going to be tried as an adult - because you’re eighteen. And then, Nick, you are going to jail. And do you know why, you’re going to jail, Nick?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you fucked with my son. And now, I’m going to fuck with you.” He leaned closer to Nick, whispering, “Now, do you feel like crying Nick? Cry like my Dave cried and let’s see how big of a man you are. I bet you’re realizing that all this is not as much fun when there’s consequences, is it?” He could feel how badly the boy was shaking. He momentarily felt bad for doing this to a child, but then he remembered Dave’s face - he remembered dangling feet and the noises Dave had made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he stood up and turned to Sandra, “He’s all yours.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched in silence as Sandra roughly yanked Nick up, read him his rights and snapped a very heavy pair of handcuffs on him. Perhaps he’d crossed a line. Perhaps, he’d been cruel - but this boy had only shown Dave cruelty, so why should Paul have been gentle and kind. And he’d been careful. He knew the law - he knew what limits to stay within. And he had talked to the county prosecutor, his friend Tony Stirling - who knew that either he let Paul do this, or Paul would do something much worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandra, however, had argued this wasn’t public enough. She’s wanted to walk into his classroom and arrest him there, but Paul liked his plan. Because he wanted to make sure the boy knew exactly who he was and why this was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus… ah! There goes the bell ending the second period, now all the students would be watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved to follow Sandra and Nick out of the office, but paused in the doorway, turning to look back at Mrs. Garcia sitting behind her desk. He scowled at her. “I’ve changed my mind, the case against you stands - you seemed fine to protect that bigot, and yet you did nothing for my David - you’re not worth my sympathies. You truly did make a mistake when you turned a blind eye to what was happening last week - I hope you live to regret that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he walked out to watch Nick Thompson get folded into a police car. Once that was done, it would be onto the next thing on his list. The parents. </span>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>{May 2012} </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The law offices of Thomson, Parker &amp; Jauz were big and bright - all stark white surfaces,  with chrome accents and shard-like windows that made Paul feel more like he was actually inside one of Dave’s beloved sci-fi movies than an actual law firm. The entire place was so very different from the dark and murky offices of his current firm back in Lima. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The surge of adrenaline that had kept him going for the last few hours was starting to wane, which meant that he could feel the pull of exhaustion in his body. But he couldn’t quite crash yet - he still had a little ways to go. Currently, he was sitting in a massive glass encased boardroom - a room that was all soft white leather, glass tables, and lighting fixtures that made him question exactly what good taste was. He wondered what Kurt would have to say about this place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat felt dry and worn out - he’d been talking for nearly two hours straight and he was starting to really notice the lack of food he’d had today. Perhaps he really should have had that expensive muffin and coffee at the Columbus airport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had left him alone for a moment - which he was so grateful for. He glanced around him - at the huge glass boardroom table - noticing that his fingers had left long greasy smudges..should he try to clean them. Sighing, he wondered - and not for the first time today - if this was a good idea. If any of this was a good idea. He wasn’t a big time lawyer - he was a small town hick who used to have grand aspirations until he fell in love and let his wife dictate his future for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the huge TV screen on the far wall, it was connected to a very fancy tablet computer thing - would he have to learn how to use one of those things if he got hired? He’d need Dave to just show him how to turn the damn thing on. God, he felt out of place here. He felt like he was Atticus Finch walking into the State Legislature - so out of his depth. And yet, when they talked to him about their work, he felt so very at home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at the glass doors to the room, he couldn’t see any of the partners who’d been interviewing him, so he took a risk and reached out, grabbing the water pitcher to pour himself a glass of water. It felt so good to just have a minute to himself - just a couple minutes to breathe and prepare himself for whatever was to come. Over the last two hours, every single person in the office had greeted him with a smile and a handshake - it felt in some ways as though they’d already decided to hire him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted this job. No matter how much he felt like a fish out of water - the opportunity to do good in the world, it was too strong a desire. He wanted to take everything he’d done for Dave over the past few months and redo it - on a large scale. He was, as Burt had taken to calling him, Paul the Superhero - maybe he could find a way to help save other lost and scared kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up as the door opened and the top partners of the firm - Michal Thomson, Vivian Parker and Antonio Jauz - walked back in. All of them were smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that, Paul, we just wanted to take a minute to see if we had any other questions for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s perfectly alright.” He smiled broadly at them. “I was just admiring your offices.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is extremely fancy - but we’re proud of it.” Antonio settled himself across from Paul and looked expectantly at him. Paul hated this part of the interview - it was essentially over, but they all needed to make small talk for a little while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it certainly beats the dingy little office I have back in Lima.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three partners all nodded, all with this secret little smile on their faces - he wondered what was that all about.  “So, Paul,” Michal asked, smiling, “any big plans while you’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - I uh, I promised my son I’d go check out Georgetown for him, but he also made me promise that I’d take some time and relax. Just haven’t figured that one out yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three partners all looked at each other, as they had been doing throughout his interview, and he could feel something pass between them. Finally, after a moment, Vivian turned to him, “We, uh, we heard about what happened to your son. And we just wanted to let you know that we are all so sorry that happened - it must have been horrible and awful. Is he doing alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah - the Dave question. Paul had been looking forward to this, because if there is one topic that he could easily talk about for hours, it would be his son. Paul could give you a TEDTalk, a valedictorian address and a keynote speech all about Dave and probably never say the same thing twice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, thinking about the sheer joy he saw on Dave’s face when he got to be with Kurt. Or the shy excited smile he’d given Paul this morning - </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Knock ‘em dead dad! Be the superman you are!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought about the soft smile or the gentle way Dave moved throughout his daily existence or the quiet laugh that sometimes rang out of his room or filled the living room with a sense of absolute delight in being alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Dave? He’s doing fantastic. I mean, yes, he’s still struggling - it would be hard for him not to - but he’s getting happier everyday. He just got himself a boyfriend, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s wonderful to hear.” Vivian beamed at him. He knew for sure that he’d won her over during the interview - she had not stopped smiling at him once. “We have to admit, your passion for LGBTQ rights, was one of the primary things that made us want to meet with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t exactly remember what he’d written in the CV and letter that he’d sent them, but it would not surprise him to know that he’d talked about Dave and gay rights. They had been a rather singular focus for him since February. He shrugged, “I’m glad to hear that, gay rights has become a rather important focus for me - I want to see kids, like my David, protected.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we noticed and we’re quite excited about seeing where we can take that…” She paused, eyes growing slightly wide, realizing she may have said something without meaning to. Her mouth morphing into an “o” shape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Paul just smiled at her and said, “In any case, I worked hard to help my son and I want to continue doing that work for other sons and daughters.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vivian visibly relaxed and nodded. She changed the subject quickly, “Wonderful, so what do  you plan to do to relax while you’re here, Paul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Might take myself out for a nice dinner. Go see the monuments. And if the hotel has a spa, might get a massage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio leaned forward, “Where did we book you again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul thought for a moment, the name of the place was stuck somewhere in there - something circle. “Uh, it’s in my phone - I’m not sure - someplace in a circle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” Vivian brightened, hoping her earlier flub was forgotten - it wasn’t. “The Dupont Circle Hotel - what a lovely place, but they don’t have a spa; however, I can give you a recommendation.” She tore a piece of paper from a yellow note pad and scribbled on it. “This spa is quite close to your hotel - it’s lovely. And I’m recommending one of the nicest bars in the city.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She passed the sheet to him, he glanced at it and then folded it and slipped it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “Thank you, I think a massage and then a drink sounds exactly like what I need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three partners smiled brightly at him - he wondered if he could allow the rising sense of excitement he was feeling to overwhelm him. They clearly had every intention of hiring him - but were playing it cool for now. But he really wanted to know what had swayed them - he hadn’t done anything involving human rights work in decades. Hell, he barely remembered what it was like to work on those kinds of cases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless… it was Dave. Had they decided to take him on because of what had happened to his boy? Had Dave somehow inadvertently helped his dad to achieve a dream that he’d believed was dead and buried? Had they seen in him the kind of passion they wanted simply because he had been willing to burn Lima to the ground in order to save his son? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled as he stood up and shook their hands - listening to each of their dinner and lunch recommendations, promising that he’d try his best to see the Capitol Building before flying home tomorrow evening. Then he was being whisked back into an elevator and down to the lobby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stepped out into the bright sun of a May afternoon in Washington DC, Paul couldn’t help but think about how dreadfully hard he had worked to ensure Dave’s safety. And how ruthlessly he had acted to hold those responsible accountable. And how he had used the law as his battle ax every step of the way. Was that why they were so eager and willing to bring him into their firm?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul lifted his hand to hail a taxi - how very urban of him! - so he could be whisked to his apparently rather upscale hotel. But as he sat in the back of the cab, he remembered the cold drabness of an afternoon in February, when he had brought reckoning and despair to a family because of the actions of their son. </span>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>{February 2012 - One Day Post Suicide Watch }</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Lima Police Department was housed in the Chief William K. Davenport Hall of Justice, a squat rust colored building that looked like every other municipal building in every other American midwest rural community. It was, for a thoroughly unassuming building, a very intimidating building. And that intimidation factor was exactly what Paul hoped would work for him today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main hallway always made Paul think of the entryway to Dave’s old high school - or perhaps, his future high school more than it did a police station. All stark white walls, scuffed linoleum floors, glass partitions and harsh white fluorescent lights. Everytime he walked in through those doors, he felt like some naughty child being sent to the principal’s office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, however, he was honestly too tired to even bother feeling anything - unless it was anger, that was one emotion he had in spades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, on days that required him to be in the police station, he would be hanging out in the large bullpen area behind the front desk. Chatting with the few officers that he knew well - like Sandra - or fielding whatever problems his clients decided to throw his way. As a small town defense attorney, he was used to the mundane and uninteresting charges of public drunkenness or indecency, parking violations. Only occasionally was he able to say he got excited as a lawyer, when he’d deal with an assault charge and, once a charge of murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t using his position to his advantage, but that’s exactly what he was doing. There were people in the police force and the prosecutor's office who knew Dave quite well. The Allen County chief prosecutor had given Dave Blue Jacket tickets for his birthday last year, a game Dave had been excited about for months. A game that he’d hoped to go to with his dad. It ended up being a game that Paul forgot all about, and sent his son off to with Azimio - a poor substitute.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azimio… hm. He’d need to deal with that boy soon. Very soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed and let his head fall back, smacking against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and tried to take a moment to calm himself down. But that was nearly impossible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he be calm when his son was lying in a hospital bed five days after trying to kill himself? How could he be calm when every single time he stopped moving for a single second, all he could see and hear was what he saw the moment he walked into Dave’s room four days ago? How could he be calm when all he felt was an overwhelming and soul crushing sensation of having failed as a father? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out his phone, sending Burt a quick text - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is everything going okay? Has he eaten something yet?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The entire time Dave’s been at the hospital, it had been a major struggle to get him to eat something. He usually just scowled at the tray of bland food that was presented to him three times a day - mostly soft food that he could eat without utensils. Because even a plastic spoon could be used to do himself harm. Paul sighed and decided that on his way back to the hospital, he’d stop and get Dave a Big Mac. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrated -</span>
  <em>
    <span> He and Kurt are watching Star Wars on Kurt’s laptop and eating the edible arrangement Kurt’s friends sent over. I think I actually heard Dave laugh.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Paul let himself smile at that. And of course, Dave would find comfort in Star Wars. In fact, he was fully expecting a complete marathon at some point. Paul smiled and figured that he could run by Best Buy and get Dave that special edition blu-ray edition he’d been wanting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Paul?” A firm voice broke through the thoughts of his son, he glanced up at the reception desk, where Sandra and the county prosecutor, Tony Stirling, were peering down at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He attempted a smile, but knew it wasn’t going to come. A genuine smile was exceptionally rare for him these days. But he should be happy - or at least the approximation of it. He was serving justice today - justice for a boy who had been persecuted by his peers so badly and so thoroughly that he’d nearly killed himself. Even if that boy had not been his son, Paul would have raged - but because it was Dave, well that just meant that Paul was willing to burn the world down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, Paul felt anything but happy - he felt miserable. He was using the only tool he knew of to ensure his boy was safe - the law. He wondered how the Thompsons were feeling right now - having a Lima Police cruiser appear in their driveway, with a group of officers enacting a search warrant the prosecutor had issued this morning. A group of officers who would then escort them to the police station where they’d find out exactly what they were dealing with. And why their boy had been brought here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That boy - that bigot - had endangered Dave. And the evidence was sound - it was obvious that Nick had been the ringleader. And yet, he had to ask himself - was he ready to destroy a boy’s life? He closed his eyes, hoping for an answer. And he remembered - the sound of Dave’s gasps. The way his fingernails had gone bloody from trying to claw away the leather that was cutting into the soft flesh of his neck. And then the quiet strangled voice in the ambulance...</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad? Daddy? What’s happening? I’m scared.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul opened his eyes - anger flashing in them. He had his answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can wait back here, right? The couch in the break room is way more comfortable than that old bench.” Sandra’s voice was heavy with concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just shook his head. “No. I plan on being the first thing they face. This just makes me even more ready for a fight. How’s the kid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Freaked out.” Tony sounded irritated. “But pretty damn adamant that it was all just a joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s grip on his knee tightened - he wondered if he could crush his own kneecap. “Has he said sorry yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Which means we’re leaving him all alone in an interrogation room to think about things. Also, we just got word, they finished the search at his family’s house - I’m guessing they’ll be here any minute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony reached out and gripped Paul’s shoulder, “You know you don’t have to be here for this, right? I can do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to look them in their eyes, Tony. This is important to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard a heavy sigh come from the man, but he also knew Tony would have his back and would prevent him from going too far. He needed that reassurance. He needed to know that someone would help prevent a catastrophe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandra, bracing her elbows on the desk, asked, ‘How’s Dave doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul didn’t take his eyes off the doors to the building. “He’s watching Star Wars with a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed and shook her head, her long blonde ponytail whipping against her neck. “I bought him the Battlestar Galactica box set, I’ll drop it off later today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Sandra, he’ll like that. And thank you both for helping me with this today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul - ignoring that it’s Dave  we’re talking about, that school was criminally negligent and this boy persecuted Dave with a viciousness I’ve never seen before. That doesn’t stand in my town.” Tony’s voice almost echoed the anger that Paul felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right, sweetie.” Sandra sounded equally as grim, “This was happening with or without you - you just made things easier.” Her eyes drifted up towards the main doors, a frown settling on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed her gaze and watched as a couple entered the building - looking around bewildered. They clearly had never been in a police station before. And they seemed utterly gobsmacked to be in one now. He wondered where the seized contents of their house was - probably in the back room, already being analyzed. Emails picked apart, Facebook chats scrutinized. Web search histories recorded in such detail that it would feel like their digital lives were being laid bare. He wanted to laugh - because he’s had to explore his own son’s digital life. His heart slowly breaking as he explored pages like The Trevor Project, or the Q Chat services - which Dave had admitted to being too afraid to click on. A litany of purchases that suggested his son had tried to be romantic to another boy. Then, a search history that made Paul want to drink a bottle of whiskey and forget he even had the capability of thought - homemade nooses, how many sleeping pills are enough to kill you, if I hang myself will it hurt? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the approaching couple and wondered - what does your son search online, late at night, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked like any other white family from Lima, but he’d never seen them before. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t know every single thing about them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Thompsons - Jack and Susanne. He was forty-nine, an accountant and had lived in Lima his whole life; she was forty-six and worked at the Lima Public Library. She had also grown up in Lima. They’d gotten married almost immediately out of high school. They didn’t appear to attend a local church - at least none that Paul could find, which surprised him given their son’s attitudes. But maybe he was just biased - afterall, his only other benchmark for homophobia and hate was from his wife’s religious beliefs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he did know they lived in a nice house, in a decent neighborhood with a good car parked out front. And he knew that last week they had been in Florida for a vacation. Which was why their precious Nick was all by himself - able to enact what ever bigoted little fantasy he wanted. Oh, and Paul knew they were very proud of their son, an all star athlete with a free ride to OSU for the fall. Well...Nick used to have those things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And right now, Jack and Susanne Thompson were walking - almost racing - up to the reception desk. It was almost showtime. First he needed to let Sandra and Tony talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack Thompson grabbed the edge of the desk, speaking in a tone of voice that belonged to those people who believe they are always in the right. Those people who believed a grave misunderstanding had occurred and it needed to be rectified immediately. Paul had once been that man - until his son tried to kill himself. Now, he knew that there was no such thing as misunderstandings. Now there was only hurt and anger and ensuring that nothing came near his David again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul wondered how long it would take him before he punched the guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me officer, but I got an utterly ridiculous phone call that my son has been arrested?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandra regarded him coldly. “Name?” She barked - it was a frightening tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Susanne was the one who answered -her voice was a high pitched mixture of patronizing and worry. “His name is Nick Thompson. He’s a student at Thurston High.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul smiled, he wondered how long until their anger overwhelmed them. And he wondered how they would react to the nuclear blast of his anger.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandra nodded. “Yes, I arrested the boy myself.” Her voice was cold and indifferent.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on earth did you arrest him for!? He’s a good boy!” Jack’s voice rose in pitch - although, it was not as confident as it should be. There was something there. Something Paul latched onto. Interesting, he thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony smiled at them, it was a politician’s smile - but it held no warmth. “My name is Tony Stirling, the Allen County Chief Prosecutor. You son, Nicholas, has been charged with committing a hate crime, under The Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act of 2009, as well as the Ohio Hate Crimes Act. Nicholas has also been charged with second-degree involuntary attempted manslaughter, as well as criminal intent to cause bodily injury. He has been arrested - read his rights and reminded that he can have an attorney present. Thus far he has refused that right. I also remind you that your son is eighteen and can therefore be tried as an adult.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Thompsons stood there and stared at Tony - both of their faces moving from shock to horror to anger. Susanne surged forward, anger flashing on her face. “Excuse me!? On what grounds…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have more than enough evidence to prove your son was the instigator in a hate campaign against a fellow student that led to that young man making an attempt on his life. Your son, Mr and Mrs. Thompson, commited a hateful and hurtful act and he will be held accountable for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Susanne Thompson gaped at Tony. Then she turned to her husband, “Jack?” As though expecting him to stand up and denounce Tony’s words - to step in and make this nonsense go away. But Jack Thompson was staring at the floor - which Paul certainly noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as he watched Jack Thompson stare at the floor, a new thought formed. A thought more awful and hurtful than all the others - he knew. He knew what his son was. Interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I would advise you to get a lawyer for your son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack Thompson’s voice was strained and wounded - “Who was the boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul finally looked up. He kept his tone even, cold and clinical - although the raw simmering anger was so clear that anyone listening close enough could certainly hear it. “It was my boy, Mr. Thompson. It was my son that your precious Nick persecuted and hunted until he felt he had no other recourse than to try to take his own life by hanging himself with a belt in his bedroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Thompsons turned to look at him. He stood slowly, bringing himself up to his full - and very imposing stature. Susanne Thompson, naturally was the first to speak - a mother’s devotion to the belief that her child could not possibly be a villain was always so commendable. “My Nick would never…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regarded her coldly - her anger and determination was of little concern to him. And he knew he was about to hurt her even more. “Would you like me to describe to you what it sounds like when you hang yourself, Mrs. Thompson? I can. I heard it as I had to cut my son down from his homemade noose. Or would you like me to tell you about how your Nick spray painted FAG on my son’s locker? Or would you like me to tell you all about the hateful and disgusting things your son said to my son - or posted on line? Or how he encouraged all his little pathetic friends to post death threats against my son. Or tell my boy to go kill himself? Or attack my son just because he happens to be gay? I can do that too. But in the end it comes down to this - your son is a hateful little bigot who decided to play a hateful little game, and now he’ll pay the consequences.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul turned to look at Jack Thompson, who was staring at the floor with a sad and melancholy expression - he did not even have the presence of mind to look surprised. “But, something tells me, Mr. Thompson, that I don’t need to do any of those things. Because you already knew - you already knew what your son was...what he is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Susanne stared at her husband. “Jack?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice that answered chilled Paul. “I would hear things - when he was in his room talking on the phone. Or when he was with his friends at the house. Or, once when I looked at his computer and it was this awful website about anti-gay propaganda. And I tried to talk to him. I tried to make him understand it was wrong - but I didn’t try very hard.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul took a step forward, “Well, it would seem that what you lacked in conviction, you son had in spades - he just decided to direct it towards killing my son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Susanne pushed at Paul - her face a wash of anger and horor. “I’m very sorry for your son, but my Nick would never do this! My son…is a good boy! Your son must be very sick…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked at her and he smiled - he would later wonder exactly what it was about that smile that made her shrink and grow silent in the way she did. “Mrs. Thompson, I would be very careful in how you finish that sentence.” She visibly shrank in front of him - fear lacing her features.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bending down, he picked up the envelope he’d been carrying around, he opened it and slipped out a sheet of paper - it was a print out of Dave’s Facebook. He held it out to Susanne, “Tony has given me permission to share this with you. It is a chat between your son and my son - one of dozens of pages, I might add. I would take a look at the second entry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul does not need to look at it - he has already committed it to memory. He will never forget those words - he will never forget the evil and hate of those words. And while he won’t allow himself to forget, he planned to work very very hard to make sure Dave </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> forget they ever existed. He watched as Jack and Susanne Thompson saw - probably for the first time - some of the unique brand of hate their son wrote to Dave.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the whispered “Oh my god.” but he was not sure which of them uttered it. And he watched as Susanne brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a small cry - which means she’s reading all fifteen of the messages, none of which Dave ever replied to. She raised her eyes away from the paper to meet his - he can see that defiance wavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Thompson, I mean no ill will towards you or your husband. But your son went after mine like it was his personal mission to wipe David off the face of this planet, and for that I am going to tear his world apart.” He held out the envelope. “This is a civil litigation filing against Thurston High, but you are also named as defendants.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack Thompson took the envelope without taking his eyes off the chat printout, he looked like his world had just ended. It was an expression that Paul knew well - he’d seen it in the mirror a lot over the last week. Susanne reached out and took the sheet of paper and started to read it again - this time there were tears running down her face. He took no pleasure in that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he also knew that there was nothing else that he could do to these people - their lives lay in ruin at their feet through the hateful actions of a boy they thought they had raised right. So, he turned and nodded at Tony and Sandra - who had watched the entire encounter with sad, tearful eyes. Then he turned to go, but paused when Jack Thompson spoke, “Sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your son. Is he… alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My son is alive, so be thankful for that. But your son needs to face the consequences of what he has done. I’m sorry you have to face this. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the hospital to care for my own - you care for yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul walked away - head down, lost in the thoughts of what he’d accomplished today. He knew he had so much more work to do to ensure Dave’s safety, but he’d done enough for the day. Now, he’d swing by Best Buy and get Dave that blu-ray set and maybe talk to them about getting Dave that fancy iPhone he really wanted. Then he’d get McDonalds for himself, Dave, Kurt and Burt and they’d sit in a stark hospital room and see what was happening on Tatooine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked through the doors as the sound of Tony’s voice echoed in his ears explaining what would happen to the Thompsons next. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>{May 2012}</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul stepped out of the massive marble shower stall - relishing the sensation of the heated tile floor beneath his bare feet - and grabbed one of the innumerable fluffy white towels that were piled on an inset shelf in front of the shower. He’d been taken aback slightly by the doorless shower and by the huge wall of windows overlooking Dupont Circle that made up one side of the shower. But the moment he stepped under that steaming hot spray, all his worries disappeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed himself dry and then wrapped the towel around his waist before stepping in front of the huge mirror over the sink. He stared at himself - he had always prided himself on looking rather youthful. He’d never really looked his age, but now he looked older and worn out. And he knew that was because of the past four months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face looked older - extremely heavy bags under his eyes, cheeks sagging slightly. His face wasn’t as youthful as it had been even last year - it was full and heavy. His goatee seemed to sit like an adornment on a puffy face. His face just looked fat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still a solidly built man - powerful chest with prominent pecs and thick arms that carried a lot of power. His chest hair was starting to turn grey now and he scratched idly at it as he gazed at his very prominent stomach. If his face hinted at his weight gain, then his stomach screamed it outloud. He had gotten fat - there was no doubt about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He briefly wondered if he should put his running shoes on and go for a run in the hotel gym - spending an hour or so sweating and wheezing away on the treadmill. He imagined Dave’s face if he was here and heard that idea. Dave would probably laugh until he started to hiccup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, he wandered back into the rest of the suite - with the huge bed next to the massive bank of windows that let in piles of bright light and the door to the balcony that gave him a perfect view of the traffic circle below. He stopped and stared at the bed. Perhaps he should just take a nap, but then his stomach growled and he realized he really would rather go and have something to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening his small suitcase, he yanked out a faded pair of jeans and the Rolling Stones t-shirt Dave had given him last Christmas. He quickly dressed, completing the look with his old leather jacket, which Dave had encouraged him to take at the last minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“David, don’t be silly - I’m going for a job interview, not to a rock concert.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, dad! First, no one calls it a rock concert, just a concert. And that jacket looks awesome! You’ll look so cool walking around in that. Maybe you’ll turn some lady’s head!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So, with a small smile on his face, he’d packed it - almost feeling a flutter of butterflies at the idea of being noticed. And now, as he stood in front of the mirror, he agreed with Dave. He did look awesome in this - he looked younger. The jacket, tight jeans, a cool t-shirt and the dressy sneakers Dave had encouraged him to buy for the trip - they all worked together to erase almost five or more years off of him. He still had a gut, but it looked less obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look like a practically middle-aged small town lawyer, he looked cosmopolitan and...cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed softly as he grabbed his wallet and walked out of the room. It had suddenly dawned on him that he had a whole day and half to himself in this city - no responsibilities waiting for him. He could just go and enjoy himself. Dave was being looked after - Burt and Kurt would care for him. So Paul could go...and have fun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took Paul all of three minutes - walking down Church Street towards what was promised as “one of the best places for lunch in the city” - to realize that he had landed in the middle of the gay area of the city. He felt like laughing when he saw all the rainbow flags fluttering from the front of buildings. Because of course he would end up in the gay neighborhood! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was when he was sitting at a small table on a patio with a bloody mary and a burger in front of him, that it really hit. He was contemplating texting Dave - to tell him about everything that had already happened today - when two men walked by. They were bigger guys - clearly members of what Dave called the bear community. One was wearing a nicely tailored suit - all soft metallic greys and purples - and the other was in a plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. And they were holding hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was batting an eye - not a single person made a comment or gave it a sideways glance. There were no slurs being yelled at them. No, it was just common place - exactly as it should be. They were just two men - living their lives, happy and content together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all at once, an image floated up in his mind. Of Dave and another man - maybe Kurt, maybe someone else - walking down this street. Hand in hand - content in the knowledge that their love and their lives were not the exception or the rule. Just normalcy. And just like that, Paul understood why it was so essential for Dave to get away from Lima. Why he had been working so goddamn hard to make this happen. It was so Dave got the same chance as those two men - the chance to feel absolutely normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when he took a bite of his burger and saw tears dripping down onto the tabletop that he realized he was crying. He knew he was going to get that job and then he was going to bring Dave to this very restaurant and they were going to eat a rather sublime burger and bask in Dave having found his new home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul smiled and continued eating. And when he was done, he was going to wander around Dupont Circle for a while, then head down to the National Mall. And tonight...tonight, he was going to go have a drink at a bar. He’d earned it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title: "Flip the Switch" by The Rolling Stones (https://open.spotify.com/track/6j0ueLJBI9FQDpeDHj3enY?si=yTDBVrzxRsm1k_Ot18MbDQ)</p><p>For more information on the THE MATTHEW SHEPARD AND JAMES BYRD, JR., HATE CRIMES PREVENTION ACT OF 2009 please see this site: https://www.justice.gov/crt/matthew-shepard-and-james-byrd-jr-hate-crimes-prevention-act-2009-0</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Baby, I'm ready to go (or, What Paul Did, Does, & Will Do), Pt.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 2 of Paul's DC adventures, with flashbacks to Lima</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings - homophobic language, mentions of suicide, mentions of sexual situations</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul’s never been a very fancy person. He’ll take an ice cold beer over a fancy glass of wine any day. A good burger or steak over some French four course whatever. The Rolling Stones took precedence over classical music - hell, as far as he was concerned, they were better than like ninety-nine percent of any newer band you might try to sell  him on! And he hated wearing a suit - give him jeans and a t-shirt over the tight confines of a stuffy suit. But he did have one exception. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oysters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he very rarely got to have the chance to eat oysters in Lima - where the high bar for seafood was Red Lobster or Captain D’s. And he’d be damned if he was ever going to order an oyster from Red Lobster. He had once managed to convince Dave to go with him to a seafood place in Columbus. He still smiled remembering the boy’s face when presented with the silvery raw shellfish - it had been priceless in its horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Paul hadn’t really had a good oyster experience in many many years. Which meant, after returning from an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping - mostly buying things for Dave - he’d happily approached the front desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This might be a weird question, but where would you suggest I go for dinner - if I said I wanted oysters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young woman's eyes had lit up in excitement as she wrote down the name of  a place not far from the hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He beamed right back, a smile that stayed fixed to his face as he headed back to his room, where he carefully put the packages for Dave in his suitcase. Perhaps he’d gone overboard, but he had a hard time caring - a Washington DC pride shirt, a Star Wars art book, some new sci-fi novel that the young woman with spiky red hair at a queer bookstore recommended, and a little model of the Apollo lunar lander from the Air and Space Museum. And he knew the collection of gifts would just grow tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really missed his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even so, the promise of oysters made him shiver excitedly. After another mind blowing shower, he took a few minutes - sitting naked on the hotel bed - to look up the menu. He could not wait to have an ice cold beer and as many oysters as he could fucking eat. He also knew he was going to send endless photos to Dave - just to get the expected “Ew! Dad!” response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After essentially planning out his entire meal, he pulled on his dinner outfit - jeans, a red and black plaid shirt underneath his leather jacket, plus the pair of brown boots he’d bought earlier at a little men’s clothing store close to the hotel. Then, feeling like a complete tool, he pushed his hair up into a spiky tangle like Dave had shown him, and took a mirror selfie, sending it to Dave.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Do I pass muster for dinner? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave wrote back seconds later - </span>
  <em>
    <span>You look like a hipster, dad! Kurt loves it! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Paul looked at himself in the mirror - he looked different. He felt different. He looked younger - even from earlier today, he seemed more youthful. More like the version of himself he’d always hoped to be. Shaking his head at himself, he groaned, “Burt is really going to make fun of me for this.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved his wallet into his pocket and headed out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked out the door of the hotel, he saw a sign for the hotel bar - The Doyle - that made him pause. He’d planned on going to whatever place Vivian had recommended, but this was close to home. He took a little closer look. Huh, they had a late night cocktail evening starting at ten. Maybe he’d take his new hipster self out for a fancy G&amp;T tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strolled down Q Street, heading towards Hank’s Oyster Bar, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his dinner, this city, and feeling like a younger version of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A version that he couldn’t ever remember feeling until now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oysters. Funny, how such a simple little thing managed to make him think of so much. Made him fall back into the last eighteen years of his life. He smiled as he remembered when he had first had one. He’d been a law student - and then first year lawyer - in Chicago, too many eons ago to really count. And he and his friends took great pleasure in going out to semi-fancy steakhouses and ordering oysters. It felt so decant and adult - like something his parents would do on a fancy date night or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As an idealistic law student, those nights had suggested the promise of fancy deals and plea-bargains to come. And later, after Linda and Dave, those nights at a steakhouse were a desperate attempt to hold onto his youth. Before he had to go home and deal with a wife who was slowly starting to grow more and more attune to a religious ideology that he wanted no part of. And a small son who looked at him like he was personally responsible for making the world turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Linda had had Dave when they were too young - far too young. In his last year in law school, she’d approached him - scared out of her mind because she was late. And just like that, at twenty-six years old, Paul Karofsky found himself married with a small baby in his arms. And he also found himself facing a wife who wanted to find a small town with “Good American Values” to raise their son in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wife who sought out The Sunshine Church of Lima, Ohio as the epicenter of those values. So, because he was so in love with his wife and his son, Paul had agreed. He’d accepted a job at a small firm in Lima, and left his aspirations of human rights laws and steak house dealings behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, the unthinkable happened, Linda fell deeper and deeper into her church, choosing to leave her small family behind - even a son who was so confused by his mother’s decisions. And just like that, Paul found himself raising - almost single handedly - a young boy he felt entirely too young to be responsible for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, Linda made the ultimate decision - and betrayal -  in Paul’s eyes. She’d walked away completely from her family - a husband she felt was godless and a son who she had no space in her life for. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know this will be hard for him, Paul. He’ll always be my son - but I need to commit myself completely to God. I just wish you would open yourself up to Him in the same way.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, she suddenly found all the space in her life for Dave the moment he came out and spat in the face of her perverted Christian ideologies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Paul settled at his patio table, already covetly eyeing the huge platters of oysters and buckets of beer sailing out of the kitchen, his mind decided to play out one of the last conversations he’d had with Linda. A conversation that seemed to foreshadow so much yet to come. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>{February 2012 - One Day After Dave’s Suicide Attempt} </b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His son had tried to kill himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounded weird… it sounded wrong. It sounded abnormal and utterly unlike any sentence that he should ever have had to utter or think. But - Jesus fucking Christ - it was a fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His son - his Dave - had tried to kill himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul stood in his kitchen, his hand loosely gripping a mug of coffee. But he had actually forgotten the mug was even there. It was just another object - useless and unnecessary. He stared straight ahead - his eyes unseeing and unfocused. His brain struggled to actually remember what he was doing - he was supposed to be...having a shower? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right - he’d come home from the...hospital. To have a shower and change before going back and seeing his son again. Because Dave was in the hospital. Because Dave...oh god. He blinked away fresh tears as that thought floated through his brain again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His son had tried to kill himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed thickly and tried to shake himself out of his reverie. Tried to ready himself for the day - he needed to get back to the hospital soon - right? Yes. Yes he did. Dave’s new therapist - a Dr. Anderson - wanted to meet with him to talk about antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication. Because - they’d decided that Dave would need those. It was apparent to everyone that came in contact with him that Dave was extremely depressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, why hadn’t it been apparent to Paul? How come Dave’s own father couldn’t see it - couldn’t understand that Dave was depressed? That question made him feel sick - perhaps even more so than the idea that Dave had tried to take his life yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s grip on the mug tightened - his fingers turning white with the pressure. This was sick - so sick! And so unreal … Dave had tried to commit suicide! And Paul had no clue - NONE! His son had been tortured for days - belittled, bullied, told to go die and so many other things that were too horrible to think about. And Paul had happily been going to work every day without noticing a damn thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Motherfucker!” Paul screamed and slammed his hand onto the counter. Dishes rattled in cupboards and the knife block shook violently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul stared at the knife block - remembering something else he needed to do today. He had also promised to talk to Dave’s nurse about what items it would be alright for Dave to have from home - he knew it couldn’t be anything that Dave could use to cause harm to himself with. Because Dave was on suicide watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterall, his son had tried to kill himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But since they needed to monitor what Dave could have access to at the hospital, that meant he should think about things Dave might have access to at home. Letting go of the mug for a moment, Paul grabbed the knife block and dumbed the thousand dollar set of knives straight into the garbage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes - he’d scour the house tonight and tomorrow. Everything that could possibly harm Dave would go. Ever cord, rope, fucking piece of twine! Every belt, knife, nail clippers - anything that could hurt or provide temptation should Dave want to do...that again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrated - Burt Hummel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Paul - just checking in! I’ll come by the hospital tonight - no arguing. You need to eat - and I won’t take no for an answer</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to call Burt back - the man had just shown up at the hospital last night, how he’d known what had happened, Paul had no clue. But he’d forced Paul to go eat and to sit down and drink some water. The man had been a source of support that Paul hadn’t even realized he needed until it was there. And he needed someone to talk to... someone he could see as an ally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, Burt had mentioned his son wanting to see Dave - he’d need to check with the nurses about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was just too much to think about. Too much to do and try to understand - like, for instance, how his son had tried to kill himself. Paul glanced down at the counter, where a pile of papers - print outs of Facebook posts - sat. They contained only a fraction of the types of hate his son had faced over the past week. These were his own copies - the Allen County Prosecutor had his own. And they were already the basis of what, he was sure, would be a reckoning for many in this town.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everytime he thought about that hate - about what his son had faced - a massive spike of anger rammed through him. It felt hot and fresh and </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> stimulating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and let some of that anger wash over him - it was a delicious feeling. Utterly different than the numbness that he otherwise lived in. And he could feel how all encompassing that anger would be. It would be what he’d tap into soon - it would probably drive him over the coming days. Especially as the plan that he’d started to form - and discussed with Tony Stirling - would come to fruition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had decided, at three in the morning, to burn this motherfucking town to the ground. He was going to protect his son - he was going to find justice for his son - and everyone else could just go fuck themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grunting, he decided to push the plan to the side for a moment. He had other important matters to deal with - he needed to get to the hospital, talk to Dr. Anderson, and continue to make inroads in his son’s recovery. He picked up the mug and flung it into the sink - vaguely aware that it shattered into a million pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly he made his way towards the stairs. He needed to shower and change - it was the reason he’d come home in the first place. But in some ways, the very idea of getting undressed, showering, and then putting on new clothes - it was all just too much. But he had to. Dave needed him to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the doorbell stopped him in his tracks. He frowned and sighed deeply - he really wasn’t up for another neighbor or “friend” looking to offer support. The number of phone calls he’d wielded since yesterday was starting to overwhelm him. Perhaps, he could ask Burt to help with that - the man did seem quite eager to do whatever he could for Paul. And something told him, Burt would happily tell noisy neighbors to mind their own fucking business.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurried back down the stairs and opened the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his ex-wife, Linda Nelson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Linda?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, her presence immediately set him on the defensive - like he could just tell by looking at her that this was not to be a pleasant visit. And considering, he hadn't seen or heard from her since his panicked and nearly hysterical voicemail twenty-four hours ago, when he’d begged her to come to the hospital to see their son, her showing up like this - it foretold something bad.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially considering his second voicemail - last night at two in morning, after Dave had whispered something that sent ice coursing through his veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mom told me I was diseased and she wants to try and heal me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His anger after hearing that had been so absolute and so complete that all he could do was crawl into Dave’s bed and hold him like a small child. He’d hoped that his violent shaking had come across as tearful sobs and not the barely contained rage he’d felt. But now - she was here. Probably on account of that second voicemail - so full of her own anger and self righteousness.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked different - nothing like the woman he remembered. Gone were the free flowing dresses and spaghetti strap tank-tops. Gone was the long auburn colored hair. Gone was the wide and beautiful smile that had once made him weak in the knees. And in its place, was some matronly looking old woman, regarding him coldly with a scowl that expressed all too well her holier-than-thou attitude. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Paul. I’m here to talk about David’s new school.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul very quickly assessed the situation - he slipped into his lawyer hat, figuring it was the safest. She - a devoutly Christian woman, who had just told her recently outed child that she wanted to ‘heal him’ was now standing on his front porch talking about a new school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt that ice settle into his veins once again. He knew what this was - and she was about to get the surprise of her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had a lot of hats that he wore - the Paul hat was the most common, a gentle quiet man who loved to laugh, watch crime tv and listen to The Rolling Stones on a Saturday morning; the dad hat, which had gone rather unused as of late - but he knew just how protective and loving that Paul could be. And, of course, he had the lawyer hat - this hat often meant he would come across as cold and unfeeling - all analysis and logic. It was that hat - and a little of the dad hat - that he slipped on now. Reaching deep down to find that cold place he used for the most difficult of legal cases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes narrowed and he said, with ice in his voice, “New school? Linda - he’s still in the hospital, I’m certainly not considering any school until his doctors give the okay - he’s still too fragile…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a voice, almost an octave louder than he’d ever heard from her, she shouted, “That’s why we need to act now Paul! Before this disease sets in any further!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed - his distaste for her growing slowly, “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve managed to secure him a place at an institution that can help him, that can…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, he was right back there - right back to the moment after Dave’s whispered confession - when an inconsolable rage had filled him. The sorrow and pain and fear that he’d felt when he’d found Dave all morphed together - becoming a rage unlike any other. It was a rage that would come to define him over the coming weeks and months. He stepped forward, menacingly. “And what kind of institution would this be, Linda?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a place that Father Andrews is involved in, it helps sick young men like our David.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul watched her for a moment - she was so absolute in her faith. Her misguided and disgusting faith. How he hated that church - how he hated what she’d become. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head - this was no one he knew. This was not the same woman who’d once grabbed his hand on a rainy Chicago afternoon, pulling him out of his warm apartment onto a fire escape where they’d made love in the rain. This was a woman utterly divorced from that person. This was a hateful and hurtful creature.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at her - a cold and angry smile - and he enjoyed the way she stepped away from him because of it. He’d remember that reaction when dealing with other people. “Ah. There it is. So, Dave was telling the truth - you want to cure him. And here I wasn’t aware our son was sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course he’s sick! Paul - homosexuality is a sin, we need to save David before it’s too late.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save him from what, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Devil! His soul is in…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He said it simply - no anger, no force - it was an answer to a question she hadn’t asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul - please…” She held out a stack of papers. They looked like they’d been printed off of some ancient laserjet back in 1998. He could see the words - </span>
  <b>Embracing God’s Love - Rejecting the Sin of Homosexulaity</b>
  <span> printed across the top. He had no intention of touching those.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get that garbage away from me. And no, Linda, I have no intention of sending my son to any damn place like that - I will not allow my son to be tortured into becoming something he isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul! For goodness sake! Just because you’ve turned away from His Light doesn’t mean that Dave needs to be cast into a life of sin. This school uses good Christian values to help lost children find their…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please shut up. Dave is not going to any god damn conversion therapy camp - or whatever you want to pretent it’s called. And as I’m sure you’ll remember, you have no rights in deciding anything about his school or his life, for that matter. Remember - your love for God meant you couldn’t make any decisions about him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our custody agreement is powerless in the face of God’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was tired. Oh, he was so fucking tired. And he knew he had a war still to wage to protect his son, but he wasn’t expecting to face one of those battles from his ex-wife. And listening to her, he found his anger was so ready and present - so prepared to just fill him up completely. His anger burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he hated her - he thought he had hated her before when she decided to walk out of his and Dave’s lives, but this didn’t even begin to compare. This was not fucking happening. So, he roared. He roared like the protective father he was about to evolve into - this moment was a precursor to everything that followed. He roared and began the process of tearing away the apathetic absent father he’d been into the warrior he would become. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fucking shut up Linda! Your god can go fuck himself.” Her gasp was very satisfying. “Dave’s not sick - you are. And he’s not going to some perverted straight camp! He’s my son and when you left me - you agreed that I would make all decisions about his education. You have no legal right here. I do. So take your sad little pieces of paper and go back to your perverted pastor man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flashed with anger. He could see the fight in her - and he was ready for it. “Paul! See reason! David cannot go on like this - his soul is in danger.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only thing threatening Dave’s soul and sanity would be people like you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not allow this! I’ll…” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>His anger boiled over like a pot left on the stove for too long - he knew he'd do whatever it took to protect Dave. “You’ll what, Linda?” He leaned in and narrowed his eyes, making sure that he kept that icy cold smile on his face. “What exactly will you do? Because you know me, Linda. You know who I am - but I don’t think you know what I’ll do for my son. If you come for him, I will come for you and I won’t stop coming. So listen to me, very carefully. You might be my ex-wife, but if you hurt my son, you are nothing to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes grew in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if he should stop - he wondered if he should just let her go, so he could get to Dave. He wanted to see Dave. He wanted to hug and hold and love his son. He didn’t care about this woman. But he had more to say - more to show her. More anger to unleash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he rolled on over her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I want you to do something for me, Linda. I want you to go home and think about this - think really hard about your son. Think about how badly he would like to have his mother with him right now. To hold his hand and tell him she loves him. He’s scared and alone - so I’m going to give you one chance, okay? Think about the fact that you're his mother. If you decide you want to embrace that and embrace your son as he is - call me. If not, stay the fuck away from me and my family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her for a moment, then slammed the door in her face. He was done with this. He could hear her yelling at him, “I won’t give up on our son’s soul, Paul!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped and looked at the door - he could see her distorted silhouette through the glass - like an demonic version of her. He yelled back, “The only soul you need to be concerned with is yours, Linda.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, with a surge of purpose and fatherly intent, he strode away from the door. Already, he wanted to just forget about his ex-wife’s insanity and allow his anger to propel him along in the long list of things that needed attending to today. For a moment, as he paused at the stop of the stairs, he realized he should be taking Linda’s threats more seriously. Her and her insane religion could actually cause Dave harm. He needed to prepare for that - just in case.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the needs of the day overwhelmed his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted his son, but there was even more to do now - he should go see Tony Stirling about the man’s investigation into the circumstances leading up to Dave’s attempt. He also wanted to call his firm and talk to some of the other partners - there were civil litigations to arrange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Linda </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>brought up a good point - what to do about Dave’s schooling. Thruston was out - especially after Paul got through with them. But maybe...McKinley again. That warranted more thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he really needed to call Burt Hummel - he needed that man as an ally, that was obvious now. He and Dave could use one of those in the coming weeks. He pulled out his phone and dialed Burt’s number before he even realized what he wanted to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man picked up almost instantaneously, “Paul? You okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Burt, I just wanted to call and say thank you for being such a good friend to Dave and I.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small silence, until finally, “What’s happened?” Paul supposed there was something in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My ex-wife stopped by, threatening to ship Dave off to a pray-the-gay away camp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit. What did you do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told her to fuck off. But I have a feeling that she’ll be back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah - she will be. What do you need? You name it, I’ll do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul thought - he had all these plans in his head. All this noise in his head about what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> do or what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do - but he was entirely unsure about what it would take to get there. He knew that anything (and everything) that even slightly posed a threat to Dave needed to be eradicated. But how to do it exactly? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed names. He needed to know who to go after - who to trust and who to take down. Dave could provide some of that list - he and Dr. Anderson would need to talk to Dave. But, Paul already knew, he could trust Burt Hummel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it. That’s an easy one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you come by the hospital later, maybe we can talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>{May 2012}</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a warm breeze blowing down across the National Mall, bringing with it the sweet floral smell of cherry blossoms. Paul closed his eyes and let himself fall into that smell. It was perfect. Yeah, he thought, this might be his favorite thing about the trip so far! Well, a close second to the oysters anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, eating a disgustingly large gelato while staring out over the National Mall in the growing dusk of evening. He watched as the bright lights along the reflecting pool turned on and in the distance the Washington Memorial was suddenly illuminated from below. Yeah, he decided, this was going to be the first thing he and Dave did when they moved here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered how Dave was going to react to this place. To the city, which was a great deal bigger than anything Dave was used to. He wondered how Dave would handle all the change that was coming his way - Paul just hoped that he could give Dave enough support and help him find his way. But DC wasn’t too huge of a city - it was maybe perfect for someone like Dave who needed the closeness of a smaller town, but the diversity of something larger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spooning some more of his milk chocolate gelato into his mouth, fully aware that everything he’d eaten today was in gross violation of the diet he and Dave had agreed upon, Paul let his eyes wander over the people gathered on the monument steps. Families, couples on dates, a few individuals, like him, all just standing and staring out at the monuments, faces awash in awe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time tonight, he wondered what Dave was doing. How was he doing? Was he hanging out with Kurt and Finn and that odd girl Finn was dating. Or were he and Kurt wrapped up in each other in the privacy of Kurt’s room. He smiled as he remembered Dave’s utter shock at his lack of strictness around having sex in the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m totally fine with it, Dave. But you and Kurt must always be safe! I just want you to have a space you know is safe and without risk.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You are not a normal dad, you know that right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy had looked like he was going to vomit and then faint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His quiet laugh drew the attention of two young college aged girls walking in front of him. Both turned their heads to look at him, and he felt more than a little uncomfortable at the obvious heat of desire in their gazes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, ever since he’d left the hotel this evening, he’d been getting similar looks - looks of want and longing. A sensation that was wholly unfamiliar to him! He was used to just being seen as frumpy old Paul Karofsky - no one ever really looked at him like that. No one checked him out! He was a dad - the father of an eighteen year old kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was Lima that had done it. Maybe Lima had turned him old and undesirable. Maybe Lima really had sucked the life out of him - and maybe getting away from it would revitalize him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushed furiously as a redheaded woman in her early twenties walked past, saying to her friends, “Damn, hot daddy alert.” Unbelievably, he almost considered following her - then remembered he was a forty-four year old father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And thankfully, his phone rang. He scrambled to answer it, his eyes still following the redhead. He gave himself a shake - what the hell was he thinking! She’s young enough to be his daughter!  “Hello?” He muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound distracted.” Burt said softly on the other end of the call, already a laugh evident in his voice. “This a bad time?” Paul knew Burt was endlessly amused by him - although, he really had very little idea why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh! Burt! Hi! No...uh...I, uh...I just got checked out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Checked out?” Burt’s laughter got even more pronounced, and he sounded extremely amused by his younger friend. “So, I guess you’re having a good time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By a young attractive redheaded woman. Sorry...that's not...what? Oh! Yes! Yes I am!” Paul laughed and ate more of his gelato. “Sorry, Burt. That made me a little flustered.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously more than a little - you don’t usually speak in so many non sentences. But it sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am! God - this is a fantastic city! And you should see..” He paused, remembering what Burt had said the night before - </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m only calling you if there’s a problem. Otherwise I want you to spend the next two days relaxing and enjoying yourself.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So, if Burt was calling, that meant there was a problem - something had happened. He sighed and gruned, “Burt? What’s wrong? Fuck, what’s happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Burt sigh, a sound that sent shivers up Paul’s spine - whatever had happened, he knew he wasn’t going to like it. “Look, Paul, I don’t want to get you upset or ruin your trip, but, well, it sounds like our boys had some trouble on Monday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul frowned deeply, now angrily eating his gelato and all thoughts of the redhead were forgotten. Monday - two days ago. Which meant that he’d been home - that he and Dave had had dinner together - and his son hadn’t said anything. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I only know thanks to Finn - who really can’t keep his mouth shut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God bless your step-son - that boy is a miracle sometimes. Now, tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt huffed a small laugh, he knew what Finn had done for Dave. Then he continued, pushing Paul to be calm,“Promise you won’t freak out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Tell me, Burt!” Paul almost yelled, starting to push himself off the concrete step, a mixture of panic and fear rising in his stomach. He noticed a young man nearby, eying him warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blaine apparently confronted the boys at school on Monday and said some rather unpleasant things…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What things?” Paul was already reverting to protective dad mode and avenging lawyer mode. He was practically writing the restraining order in his head. “What kind of things?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to speak to Kurt later tonight - after Dave has gone to bed or something - and find out. I don’t want Dave overhearing in case it brings up...things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you! I can call him to say goodnight - that should give you a chance.” Paul took a breath, he needed to calm down. And if it was just some ex-boyfriend venting his anger, not a lot of harm could come from that - worth checking into, but not the worst of things. “And, well, I suppose in the grad scheme of things, it’s not that bad - an ex-boyfriend wanting to vent his anger.” Paul started licking the gelato bowl clean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, that’s not all.” Burt’s sigh told him that whatever was coming was going to be very bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Azimio showed up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a white hot burst of anger in his chest at the sound of that name - and he felt a sharp spike of pain in his hand before he’s aware of having crushed the gelato cup. That boy. That insufferable, backstabbing, homophobic, hateful boy. What on earth was he doing even coming within fifty feet of Dave? He could hear his breathing becoming heavier, but he managed to growl, through gritted teeth. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But mixed in with that anger was regret - and guilt - over how he acted. Over what he did - or threatened to do - to a teenager. Paul shook his head - clearing away those thoughts. He needed to focus on Dave right now - and the audacity of Azimio even approaching Dave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul. Just calm down okay and just listen. Dave is fine - this happened on Monday and Dave is fine. He’s sitting in my den watching some ridiculous movie with Kurt and their friends. He’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes - Paul thinks - Dave is okay, but he almost wasn’t. And this happened on Monday, which meant that his son had had two days to tell him that Azimio Adams </span>
  <em>
    <span>dared </span>
  </em>
  <span>talk to him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. “Tell me what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what I understand, Blaine confronted the boys and Azimio showed up and scared Blaine off - although he was pretty homophobic about it. Look, Carole and I were talking and we think that maybe Azimio was trying to protect Dave in his own twisted little way?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Protect Dave. Homophobic. Scared Blaine off. Confronted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of that made sense - except the homophobic part. He shook his head. “What the hell is he playing at?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea, Paul. But based on how the boys - and Rachel, Mercedes and Finn - were acting, it can’t be good. I think they’re freaked out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they should be! That boy knows - he knows! - that I’m not messing around when I said stay away from Dave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he said it, Paul wondered just how serious he’d been - he wondered about his threatened consequences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Paul. I think by now we all know that you mean business when it comes to Dave! Look, obviously you’re going to go after Azimio again - but just remember, Dave is safe and you’ve done such a good job of protecting him. Don’t go crazy, okay? Don’t do something that’ll hurt you or Dave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed and pushed himself off the steps, deciding to take a walk along the Mall and then head back to the hotel - then he’d call Dave. “I know Burt - you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to kill anyone. I just need to talk to Dave and understand what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul...maybe it’s time you tell Dave what happened with Azimio?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. But not until I’m home. Not until I can do that in person - I won’t confess that to him over the phone. God, Burt - I don’t want any of this to be happening to him. I just want him to be happy, Burt. Everything I’ve done - all the work, all the lines I’ve crossed...I just wanted him to be happy, Burt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on. And I’m doing this just for you - remember that - because I hate my fucking cellphone.” Burt grunted and Paul heard the phone get put down. There was silence for an extraordinary long time - long enough that Paul was able to think about all the things he’d need to do now when he got back. And about all the regrets that sometimes boiled under the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He supposed another conversation with Azimio and his mother - Samantha - was needed. That would not go well. He’d need to go back to McKinley and speak to those there that had promised to protect Dave. Probably an appointment with Dr. Anderson. And worst of all, Burt was right  - it was time to tell Dave about what had happened with Azimio. He needed to know the stakes - and the mistakes. But only in person - only when he could hold his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But so much effort had gone into fighting for Dave - he supposed he’d need to give just a little more. He just hoped Dave would understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’m back! Here, fuck! I hate this thing. Okay, I think I sent it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s phone buzzed - he pulled it away from his ear. Burt had sent him a photo of Dave and Kurt holding each other on the couch. Dave was snuggled against Kurt in such a way that the smaller boy’s chin was braced on top of Dave’s head. But it was the smile on Dave’s face that helped Paul realize that it all had been worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His son was happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul began to walk slowly along the long glittering reflecting pool - talking softly with his friend - while the image of that smile danced in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all the while, his brain kept reminding him of all those battles. Of all those long exhausting days - until one day, he found some unlikely allies in that fight.  </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>{February 2012 - Two Days After Dave’s Suicide Watch Ended}</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every high school smelled the same - the acidic tang of teenage sweat barely concealed by a massive amount of cheap body spray, overly floral drugstore perfume that hung in the air like a heavy mist, and the conflicting scents of fried food, spoiled milk and disinfectant. And as Paul walked down the main hallway of McKinley High, that funk was almost enough to make him want to vomit - which he probably would have, if he'd actually managed to eat something today. But even at Burt’s not so gentle encouragement, he just had no time for food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was too much to be done. His son was being released tomorrow morning and it felt like he hadn’t done enough! It felt as though he’d only started building the fortifications that would protect Dave - they weren’t strong enough yet. Linda was still a wild card, some of the other kids at Dave’s old school were still unaccounted for, the exposure of being an outed and suicidal gay teenager, Azimio Adams, and the question of whether he would be safe at his new school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he’d already dealt with one of those today, and now he’d handle the last one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked quickly towards the school’s main offices - brain buzzing with too many thoughts and ideas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He entered the glass walled office and put on what he hoped was a pleasant smile as he stepped up to the receptionist desk. “Hi there, I’m Paul Karofsky - I have an appointment with Mr. Figgins.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young woman’s face filled with such sorry and sympathy that he almost screamed at her in annoyance. She nodded, “Of course, I’ll let him know you’re here. And, Mr. Karofsky, I’m so sorry to hear about your son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and nodded - this was becoming somewhat of a regular occurance and he knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Slightly exasperated and utterly exhausted, he closed his eyes and braced his head in his hands while she picked up the phone. He felt like he was going to collapse right here on the spot - but he needed to keep going, just a little more. Tomorrow - tomorrow he would rest. Tomorrow, when Dave was safely ensconced at home, then he would rest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up, giving himself a shake, and turned to look at the short Pakistani man with an explosion of graying hair encircling his otherwise bald head. He was smiling sadly and holding his hand out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul straightened and shook the man’s hand. “Hello Principal Figgins. Thanks for seeing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem at all. Please come on through.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed the man, praying that this would not be a fight - that this one thing would just be normal and not some uphill battle that would cost him even more energy, of which he had so little to still give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figgins’ office was exactly the same - book lined, too bright for having all the blinds drawn and strangely overstuffed. He, just like the last time he’d been in this room, scanned the bookshelves - mostly professional books about education and copies of the McKinley High yearbook. Paul wondered for a moment if Thurston would erase all traces of Dave from their yearbook, or if the people in that school would make even the smallest effort to commemorate the impact his son had had on that place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found himself struggling to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Figgins settled himself into his chair, he smiled at Paul - again with that sad sympathetic look in his eyes. He’d need to get used to this, he supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Mr. Karofsky, what can I do for you? We already have David’s transfer papers in order - he is all set to come back, when he and his doctors feel he’s ready, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul shifted in his seat and tried to return the smile. “Yes, thank you. I’m hoping I can talk about Dave’s safety, for when he returns here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His safety?” The man’s brow furrowed, a look of confusion crossing his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. How can I be sure he’ll be safe here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky, my school prides itself on the safety of all it’s students - your son will be given that same assurance…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think Kurt Hummel would beg to differ, last year at least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Figgins paled slightly. Paul supposed he’d conveniently forgotten about those events. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last year - my son made it his personal mission to terrify Kurt Hummel, and your teachers did nothing. And then, I believe it was you who read out his name as prom queen - again an educator failing in the face of the bullies of the world. Shockingly familiar to what I faced when I dealt with the teachers at Thruston.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figgins nodded, and for a moment there was a look of fear in those eyes. Not surprising, Paul’s campaign against Thruston had certainly been big news in town. Paul had, afterall, gotten the principal and a few teachers suspended, pending investigation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figgins swallowed and said gently, “Yes - we have had some failures, indeed. But I want to assure you that David will be safe, we give no one special treatment and we give no one...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed. So, it was to be an uphill battle. “Mr. Figgins, let me stop you. My son was persecuted by a group of students that essentially called for his extermination. They dogged him online, through his phone and in person until he decided he was going to hang himself in his closet. And one of those individuals does, in fact, go to your school - Mr. Figgins. So, I repeat, how will I know my son is safe. And I don’t care about your assurances or your promises - I want to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ll keep him safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul leaned back and watched the other man, expectantly.  Although, in all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure what he expected of the man - but he wanted something more than just fucking words. He was so tired of words. He wanted action - he’d been without action for too long when it came to his son. And now, all he knew was action - action until Dave was safe. And he just wanted someone to step up to the plate and act with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky, I understand your concerns. And I am so sorry for what happened to him, but when David comes back to McKinley, he will be treated the same as any other student…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And once again, like an unexpected thunderstorm, Paul’s rage surged. “He tried to kill himself!” He screamed, pushing himself up, “That does not make him any other student! For fuck’s sake! One of your students wanted my son to kill himself! And you’re going to just release him to the wolves! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He could feel the hot burn of tears in his eyes. Why does no one understand this!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Figgins’ face grew grave. “Mr. Karofsky - please, I can’t create an honor guard or…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are an idiot! Your students wander these halls practically hunting each other - and you turn a blind eye to them. They, like Kurt last year, desperately needed help and you did nothing. My son, last year was fighting personal demons so dark they drove him to make a death threat! And now, my son wants to come back to McKinley - which means it will happen! But only once I’m sure this place will protect him.” Paul was burning up from the inside. He was filled with a rage that was going to burn him alive! Why would no one help him! Why were Burt Hummel and his son the only people willing to extend a hand of support - a boy who Dave had terrorized was the only one who wanted to help save Dave! Why were these the only people decent enough in this fucking town!? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was shaking as he stood - fighting back his tears. “Mr. Figgins, all I want is the knowledge that my son will be safe here - all I want is one god damn person to help me make that a reality! And if you won’t help me, then I’ll find someone who will!” He turned and walked out of Figgins’ office - throwing the door open violently. A scream of rage throbbing in his throat - dying to break free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him he heard Figgins yell, “Mr. Karofsky!” But he was too far gone - he was too angry. Too bogged down in his rage. He felt the burn of tears - the searing burn of frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He marched through the main office - past startled looking receptionists and teachers - and back out into the main hallway. He knew he was overreacting. He knew that Figgins’ assurances were probably more than enough. He knew that Dave would be safe here - Dave had Kurt here. And it seemed as though Kurt was absolutely determined to protect Dave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But dammit! He couldn’t ask a teenage boy to be the only source of protection for Dave! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was his job! This was supposed to be what he did! He was Dave’s father! He should be able to arrange for Dave to be safe. And if that meant Dave gets an honor guard, then that’s what he’d create! But </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed to do something! It was what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> should be doing. He needed to do more! </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed to be the one to protect Dave! He had done nothing! NOTHING! When Dave needed his father the most, where had Paul been?! Hidden away in his office, hating his job. Hating his life. Hating being a single father to a son he didn’t know or understand. And he had let him down.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the honest truth of it! He had let his son down. He was just as much at fault that this happened as any one! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul could feel the tears start to overflow now. Fuck FUCK! He was going to start crying in the middle of a goddamn high school. He stopped midstep - hands twisted in his hair - a cry of frustration and hurt and anger and guilt bursting out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stood there, shaking, he heard footsteps coming to a stop in front of him. “Mr. Karofsky?” A soft feminine voice asked quietly. Sucking in a hard breath, he lifted his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A brown haired Latina girl was standing there, next to Finn Hudson, Burt’s stepson. He recognized this girl. She was the girl Dave had gone to prom with last year. And they were both watching him with concern. Hudson lifted his hand slightly, almost as if he was about to touch Paul’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Mr. Karofsky?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to laugh - a seventeen year old boy was asking if he was okay. A child, whose hormones were probably so out of control that he barely knew if he was coming or going most days, was worried about his well being. It was laughable. But he wondered what he looked like to them - a man who has not slept in days, wearing a rumpled suit, hair and beard wild and unkempt, tears streaming down his face and in all likelihood, a look of utter misery on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No, young man, I am not. My son is lying in a hospital, scarred and scared for his sanity - certain that no one wants him alive. And I’m trying to find a way to make sure he’ll be safe. But everywhere I turn in this bullshit town, all I find is ineptitude and bigotry. So, no. I am not okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two teenagers looked at each other, then the girl - Sanatana! - stepped forward. “Dave will be safe here, sir. I promise you, there are people here who will shed blood before he gets hurt again. But, I have an idea and I think Kurt would approve of it, but Dave would absolutely hate it. Which means it’s a good idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Paul, feeling exceptionally young, sniffled into his sleeve and wiped his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with us.” Then she whispered something to Hudson, who turned and ran down the hallway. Santana just smiled at him and held out her hand. He considered it for a moment - wondering what this meant for her. But it was another person willing to help - someone who wanted to save Dave. He took her hand.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul wondered whether Dave enjoyed singing. He’d never asked and he was pretty sure he’d never seen or heard his son breaking out in song in the seventeen years Dave had been on this planet. But maybe it was a secret obsession or something. But he did remember the utter joy on his son’s face last year when he’d performed in that halftime show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been one of the few games he’d attended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have gone to more games. He should have found a way to foster that joy and excitement. He should have been more involved. Maybe if he had, none of this would have happened. Maybe if he’d pushed Dave to explore why he was so happy on that football field last year, Dave would have been in this room right now and not in a hospital bed in the psychiatric ward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around him - taking in McKinley High’s choir room - utterly at a loss as to why he was here. The room smelled like a mixture of the polish they used on the floor, the oil or wax used on the instruments littered around the room and that familiar undercurrent of teenage sweat. He glanced at the piano,  remembering a conversation he and Linda had had when Dave was five about the boy taking up a musical instrument. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pretty sure he just never bothered to follow up on that - letting it die, like so many other fatherly duties over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed as he heard the door open and a voice he had not heard in a long time wafted in - “Look, Tweedle-Fake Boobs, I despise coming in here on a good day, so why on earth am I being forced to enter Schuster’s inner lair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the tall thin frame of Sue Sylvester walked into the room, followed closely by Santana. The woman, wearing exactly the same red track suit she’d had on last year, looked utterly shocked when she saw him sitting there. As she opened her mouth to say something, the door swung open again, and Dave’s ex-coach - Sharon Beiste - accompanied by Finn Hudson, that Spanish teacher and a redhead woman. They all paused just inside the doorway and stared at him. All mirrored his own shocked expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was Santana playing at?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if snapping out of a daze, Coach Beiste pushed forward, thrusting her hand out. “Mr. Karofsky! My word, I’ve been thinking about you! I’m so sorry to hear about Dave!” He took her hand and relished in the power of her grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Coach.” He then looked at Santana. “Uh, Santana - I’m still at a bit of a loss about what all this is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky - these are the only teachers at this school, plus Coach Sylvester, who give a damn about bullying. If anyone is going to help Dave, it’ll be them.” Her tone was dismissive - not to the teachers present, but to everyone else in the damn building. He understood and sympathized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now hold on there a minute, missy.” Sylvester’s voice was loud and angry. “I don’t like that insinuation - and when it comes to your son, Mr. Karofsky, I feel like I have a bit of a debt to pay. So, you tell me what  you need - it’s yours. Also, I heard about what you did to the folks at Thurston, I like a man with vengeance in his heart.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gazed at her, eyes narrowing slightly. “It wasn’t vengeance, Ms. Sylvester. It was anger and a need to see people be held accountable for their actions. This town needs to get its priorities straight. And what debt do you owe my son?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last year, I should have - we all should have - seen that something was wrong. But none of us did, and your boy paid a price.” He was used to hearing a stern, condescending tone come from her, but this sounded sincere and honest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky,” Coach Beiste, put her hand on his arm, “What...” She started, but was interrupted by the red-head woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Emma - the school counsellor. Tell us what we can do.” She seemed quiet - demure, even. Which made him wonder how on earth she handled any of the insane teenagers running around this place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he stared at her - stared at all of them. They were offering him help! Real help. He licked his lips, considering the possibilities. He’d grown so used to seeing looks of apathy, indifference or hate - but these seemed different. This seemed genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky…” Finn Hudson pushed forward, past the Spanish teacher. “Dave’s my brother’s friend - which means he’s my friend, I kinda always hoped we would be friends though. And we want to help. We do! Please - tell us what we can do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the words of a seventeen year old boy that broke him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul let his face fall into his hands, his sobs starting small. His voice was muffled as he spoke, “He’s in so much pain. He can’t stop crying - he honestly thought he should die. His best friend - fucking Azimio - told him to die! They made him think he shouldn’t be alive anymore - the hate and horror of what those bigots did to him… I saw what they wrote - what they said! I didn’t know people could feel that much hate! But he can’t fight it alone. I can’t fight alone anymore. I just want him safe. I just want to know that I can send him here and...and…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul started to cry harder. His sobs overtook him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if he’d asked any of them at that moment, what he looked like, they would have said that he looked like a mountain of a man - a soldier - who was finally letting go. Finally opening himself up to being vulnerable. He looked like a father who just could not keep going. He looked so small - almost childlike - in that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the horror of everything that had happened - Paul had not cried all that much. In fact, he’d cried only a handful of times - he had cried so hard that first day - after finding Dave. He had cried until he thought he couldn’t cry anymore. But even then, he had cried in secret. Away from Dave’s eyes - because he had to be strong for his son. Then, he had cried in Burt’s arms that first day, when the man had shown up at the hospital, ready to sit and listen. And then again, with Burt, when the insanity and horror or everything he was facing had broken him, and he’d cried like a small child curled up on son’s bed - where Burt had found him, and helped to work through the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had cried while Dave described everything that had been done to him - that time, he had allowed himself to cry in front of Dave. They had cried together. That had also been the day his anger had finally boiled over and he’d been ready to slam it straight into Azimio Adams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every other time, well, he’d forced the tears back - he couldn’t cry. He needed to fight and fight and fight.  But now, he couldn’t fight - he needed help. So, he cried in the middle of a choir room he’d never been in before, in front of people who were complete strangers to him. He stood there, face in his hands, sobbing for a son he had almost lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, his legs started to give out, and he felt a warm pair of hands guiding him onto a chair, as a wail burst out of his lungs. “Please help him. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no idea what his tears did - it created a resolution. A fellowship that would protect Dave more than anything else. As Santana turned away, her hands covering her eyes, she swore that if someone even looked at Dave the wrong way, they’d lose their eyes. Finn decided that one way or another, he would be a better friend to Dave than anyone else could ever be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the teachers - well, they swore to do their jobs. Protect a boy who had had his life torn apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was bent over, nearly in half, sobbing so hard and loud that even those in the hallway outside heard. Then, a soft pair of arms looped around his neck, tugging him forwards. He had no idea who he was crying on, but whoever they were wearing very nice perfume. Softly, next to him he heard Sue Sylvester say softly, “Your son will be safe with us, Mr. Karofsky. I swear it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped off the elevator onto the stark and clinically cold psychiatric ward of Mercy Health. In one hand he carried a paper bag filled with Dave’s clothes to wear home tomorrow - an old pair of paint stained sweatpants, a Dungeon &amp; Dragons t-shirt, and his favorite Star Wars hoodie. In his other hand, he had a chocolate milkshake from Whippy Dip - a surprise for Dave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded at Alan and Stacey, two of the regular nurses on the ward. They smiled back at him. He could not wait until he never saw their faces again. Slowly, he made his way down the hallway towards Dave’s room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was already late - perhaps much too late for a milkshake - but it might bring a smile to his son’s face. He felt utterly wiped out. He felt like he had nothing left. He’d done all he could - he'd beaten down Dave’s bullies - even to the point of putting one of them in jail. He’d ravaged utter havok on Dave’s old school. He’d put the fear of god in Dave's ex-best friend and he’d rallied a rag-tag group of people at McKinley to protect Dave - a group that, if they did their job right, Dave would never even know they were there, watching and protecting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled as he remembered Beiste’s promise - “He might not be on my team, but that doesn’t make him any less of a titan. My boys will watch over him - if anyone, especially that Adams, steps out of line, they’ll wreck havoc.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sylvester’s - equally reassuring, albeit much more insane, promise, ‘There’s a reason I own a canon, Mr. Karofsky.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what had warmed him most had been Finn and Santana - “We just want to be his friends, we’ll watch over him with Kurt. We promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although, he knew his son. He knew how much of a loner and how fearful of friendships Dave could get. Those two - and anyone else who wanted to befriend him - would face an uphill battle with Dave. He’d need to talk to Kurt about all that - Kurt needed to know, but also he needed to know that Dave would just need time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had done all he could - tomorrow, Dave would come home. There was little else to be done. And yet, he felt like he hadn't done enough. He still had so much to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swaying slightly on his feet, he stopped in front of Dave’s room, glancing through the window - Dave was sitting up in bed, with Kurt in a chair next to the bed - a laptop had been set up on the table, and the boys were watching something. Dave’s eyes were wet with tears - a sad and mournful look on his face. It was the same face he’d been wearing for days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed they were holding hands. Interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt was sitting in a chair facing the door - reading a John Le Carre novel. He glanced up, nodding when he saw Paul. He watched as Burt said something to Kurt and then got up and moved to the door, slipping out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Paul, frowning. “Hey Paul. Did everything go okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. Yeah, everything is set up at McKinley. But I still need to look into making sure Dave gets a new laptop and a figure out next week's therapy appointments and…” The words died on his lips as a wave of dizziness washed over him and he stumbled forward a bit. Burt caught him, hugging him tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Paul! You look like you're going to fall over dead any second.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just tired...there’s still so much…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt gripped him hard. “Paul! Stop. Please stop. Just stop.” A look of frustration and something akin to anger came over Burt’s face, his voice was hushed and concerned. “You don’t need to change the world all at once, okay? Look, I know how hard you’re trying. I know you’re scared and you want Dave to be safe. But, you need to listen to me now, okay? Can you just listen to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul just nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you need to do, is you need to go in that room and see your son. You need to sit with your son! Just hold your boy! For fuck’s sake, Paul - he doesn’t need you to fix his school or destroy his bullies - he just needs his dad. He’s hurting and in pain and he just needs his damn dad! He’s wanted you here all damn day!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked at Burt, tears burning his eyes. “I cried in front of Sue Sylvester today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a story I want to hear over a beer. Look, Paul - Kurt and I, we can only do so much. But he needs his dad. You need to go in there and you need to...just hug him and be with him. Tell him you love him. Tell him you...just be his dad, Paul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul let his eyes wander back towards his son, taking in the sad and lost expression on his face. The hurt that radiated out of his eyes. Fuck. Paul realized that while he’d been running around trying to do everything at once for his son - he’d forgotten the one thing that needed him the most. His son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at this unlikely friend and smiled. “Thank you Burt. I think I needed to hear that. Will you and Kurt still come tomorrow and drive us home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Are you staying here tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ll go home tomorrow and change while he has his morning therapy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Call when you leave here, and we’ll get ready to come get you. Now come on - let’s collect my son and give you and Dave some time alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt and Paul walked into the room together. Dave’s eyes immediately locked onto his dad - a small smile playing at his lips and his red rimmed eyes looked a little happier at the sight of Paul’s rumpled form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt immediately bolted up. “Oh! Mr. Karofsky!” Kurt looked at his father, eyes questioning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Kurt. Thanks for keeping Dave company.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy to! We had fun, right Dave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave just watched silently. His eyes did not leave Paul’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, buddy,” Burt said, “Let’s give these two some time alone. Dave - I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a soft and quiet, “Thank you, Mr. Hummel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt snapped his laptop shut, shoving it into his bag, then he threw his arms around Dave’s neck. Paul heard a quiet, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dave. I promise. And you can continue educating me on this Star Wars cartoon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched his son hug Kurt back, then Burt and Kurt disappeared, leaving Paul and Dave alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved over to the bed, perching on the edge, holding out the milkshake. “Hey kid, I got you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks dad.’ Dave sucked at the straw, before putting the cup on the table. “You remembered my favorite.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard not to, it's what you got every time we’d go. Dave, I’m sorry I was gone so long today.” He reached out and brushed his hand through Dave’s hair - it was soft. He knew one of the nurses had arranged for a shower today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay - I know you’re busy.” Dave’s eyes stayed locked onto the hospital blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Dave - I should be busy with you. I’m really sorry. Would you be okay if I stayed with you tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave nodded. “I’d really like that.” He looked up, that small smile back on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was about to sit on the chair, but stopped. Sitting in a chair meant too much distance - he hated that. He looked at Dave for a moment before making a shooing motion and then started to climb onto the bed - he kicked off his shoes before stretching out his legs.. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Dad? What...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is happening. You just have to deal with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, okay.” Dave shifted over and let him settle on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul carefully wrapped his arms around Dave and pulled him close. He sighed against his son’s hair as Dave’s face settled against his chest. “How you doing, kid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. I keep crying - I’m tired a lot, like there’s this weird fog in my head that makes me want to sleep. I’m still scared.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you scared of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I keep hearing them and seeing what they wrote...everytime I close my eyes. I’m scared it’ll never go away. I’m scared, that's all I’ll ever see, everytime I close my eyes, for the rest of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t. I know it seems so big and scary right now, but you won’t. I promise you. In time, something will happen - something great - that will replace it all. I don’t know what it’ll be, but something will. And then, when you close your eyes, that’s what you’ll see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise. Dave… there’s something I want to say.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I’ve said this a lot since...everything. But I really want you to know, I love you. I love you so much and I don’t care who you love or what you are - I just love you, okay? You’re my son and I’m proud of you. And from now on, you and me kid, we’re a team. But I love you, and don’t you ever forget it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave rolled over, tucking himself even tighter against Paul. And as his son buried his face into his chest, Paul tightened his grip - he was never letting go. Then as Dave’s soft cries became louder and louder, until his entire body was shaking with the intensity of his sobs, Paul just let himself hold his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because that was all that he needed to do. Let the rest of the world sort itself out - he’d done enough. All that was left was for him to hold a scared and sobbing boy, and try to help him rebuild his world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, as Alan - on the night shift - came in to check on Dave, he smiled at the sight of the Karofsky men, tightly holding one another, sound asleep on the small hospital bed. Carefully, he covered both men with a warm hospital blanket - he knew Dave got cold easily at night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, safe and warm in his father’s arms, Dave dreamt of a life yet to be lived without persecution. And Paul dreamt of a young boy, screaming with excitement as he raced down a hallway into his father’s waiting arms. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title - Gimme Shelter by the Rolling Stones</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Baby, I'm ready to go (or, What Paul Did, Does, & Will Do), Pt.3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 3 of Paul's DC Adventures</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Sexual situations, homophobic language, vulgar language, discussions of attempted suicide, discussions of conversion therapy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>{May 2020}</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul pivoted on his barstool in the Doyle bar - sipping his exceptionally expensive gin and tonic - and surveyed the room. This was perhaps one of the nicest bars he’d been in since law school back in Chicago. The large room was dim and filled with comfortable shadows, making the bar seem close and exceptionally comfortable. He was sitting at the bar - long and sleek, it’s mirrored surface reflecting the amber hued lights above. Everything around him was either the soft dark blue of the barstools, beige plush sofas or dark rich chocolate brown low tables., mixed in with chrome accents. As he turned slowly on his bar stool, he found himself staring at a huge wall of windows overlooking Dupont Circle. He could see a few people, heads hunched down, hurrying past the hotel - maybe on their way home. Perhaps in a few months, he would be one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sipping his drink, he looked around him. Sitting in this bar actually felt more like he was in some classy bar scene in Mad Men or something. He half expected Don Draper to just walk through the doors at any moment. And even though Dave had reminded him on the phone just how much he looked like a hipster,  he felt very out of place in his plaid shirt and jeans. He’d rolled his sleeves up, showing off his muscular forearms, hoping that would make him seem a little cooler or attractive...or something. Honestly, he could not feel more like some hick from Ohio than he did right at this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar was not overly busy - there was one couple pressed closed to each other on one of the couches, a large group of men talking to a young woman at one of the very large tables by the window, and another solitary drinker - frowning sullenly into his drink - at the other end of the bar. Although they were all talking quietly, there was a buzz in the air from their voices and the quiet music playing from visible speakers - which Paul recognized as The Smiths, which Dave listened to all the time. The room felt both entirely too empty, and strangely intimate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, turning his stool back to face the bar, and looked down at his drink. He couldn’t really stop thinking about the conversation he’d just had with Dave. There was a pang of guilt in how he’d nearly raised his voice - getting frustrated over Dave’s inability to realize that what had happened on Monday was dangerous. He tried so hard not to get frustrated or upset, because he knew Dave was dealing with a lot and was just desperate for some normalcy. But still - something dangerous had happened on Monday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This Blaine boy - he might warrant more investigation. It all sounded innocent enough, but Burt’s opinion about the boy had wavered excessively over the last while. Whether Blaine was someone worthy of Paul’s attention would entirely depend on what had been said - and Burt would get that out of Kurt. Then, if Blaine proved problematic, well the boy would regret his actions soon enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what really bothered him was how little Dave seemed to be worried about Azimio. While that boy had not been the worst of them, he had still put Dave’s life in danger. And Azimio knew the stakes - he knew what Paul had threatened. Did he not think those threats were real? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed and considered his actions towards Dave’s former friend - a sense of regret sitting in his stomach. Paul, himsel, didn’t know whether those threats were real. And while Burt thought Dave needed to know about what had happened between Paul and Az - and Dave was certainly eager to understand - telling Dave was risky. Perhaps Burt and Dave were right - maybe it was time. Regardless, what right - what reason - did Az have to even consider talking to Dave.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t the boy just be reasonable? Paul didn’t want to revisit what had happened in February - he didn’t want another scene like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed again and took another sip of his drink. He needed to push Az, February, his ex-wife, Lima - all of it, even Dave - out of his mind, just for a little while. He needed to try and not stress or freak out about all of this. He wanted to relax - as Dave had instructed. So, he was going to enjoy his drink, then really enjoy that big bed upstairs, and then he would enjoy his day tomorrow. He was going to Georgetown to check the place out for Dave, then coffee with a realtor and… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Thank goodness, handsome! You’re here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been so deeply inside his own brain, he hadn’t heard her come up beside him. He jumped slightly and turned to face one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen. He recognized her as the young lady he’d noticed talking to that group earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was tall with olive skin and long black hair that had been tinted with streaks of golden brown. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost golden, and she had an exceptionally kind and inquisitive face. Her bright red lips were turned up in a small, hopeful, smile. She looked thin - but not in a bad way, more extremely healthy and muscular. She wore a knee length coral colored shift dress with a high neck, that was cinched at the waist with a black belt, and a dark blue blazer overtop. There was the glint of gold around her neck, but the actual necklace was hidden from view.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked young - maybe early thirties or, god forbid, late twenties. And she was looking at him with hopeful anticipation, but there was something else in her expression that worried him - he recognized it as fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gaped at her with a stupefied expression on his face as she pointed to the chair next to him at the bar, speaking loudly, “Sweetheart? I’ve been waiting, mind if I sit down, my feet are killing me.” There was a pause as she looked at him imploringly, “Please?” Her voice dropped suddenly to a frightened whisper.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, he looked down at the vacant seat next to him, slightly confused why she would want to sit here when there were plenty of seats available all over the bar. Then he thought about that hint of fear in her eyes, she needed help. He gave her a smile and nodded at the chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped into it with the kind of grace that usually belonged to film star beauties from the 1950s and 60s, sighing deeply in relief. She perched on the chair delicately, crossing her long shapely legs. He noticed her shiny black stiletto high-heeled shoes - their red bottoms gleamed brightly. She put down her drink - something rose colored in a champagne glass and put her hand on his, “Thank you, darling!” Then, in a much quieter tone, whispered, “I’m Michelle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked at her for a second before, relishing the heat from her hand, then he smiled and whispered, “I’m Paul.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you Paul. Thank you for letting me sit here.” Her voice shook slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” He leaned towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes - I suppose so. I came in for a drink after working late, and those gentlemen over there decided I was going to be their main course for the evening.” She gestured towards the table of men, all of whom were staring at them with drunken lustful expressions on their faces. “I hope you don’t mind pretending to be my date for the evening.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes at the group of men, a surge of protectiveness rushing over him, then leaned in towards Michelle and said, loud enough for the idiots to hear, “Hello beautiful. Sorry, I’ve been a million miles away all day! I’m glad you're here” He placed his hand on her back, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her cheek, noticing the blush that rose on her neck. He whispered, “You are more than welcome. Are you sure you’re okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, relieved. “Yes. Thank you. Much better now. What are you drinking? Let me buy you one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and waved over the bartender - having no intention of letting her buy him anything. “We can certainly order another drink, but it’s on me.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the bartender had disappeared again, he turned back to her. “You said you came from work, so you’re not saying at the hotel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I work at The Phillips Collection - it’s an art gallery nearby - I’m one of the curators there. Still a junior curator, but I got to design an exhibit on Afro-American art this year. And this is my favorite bar in the city, so I like coming here after work for a drink sometimes.” She paused and looked at him, blushing slightly. “Sorry, that was a long answer to your simple question.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. I’m sorry to say, I’ve never heard of your museum - but then, I’m not exactly an art person. I’m visiting - and staying at the hotel. I had a job interview today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That’s exciting - what is the job? And did it go well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a lawyer - it was with a local firm that specializes in human rights law. And yes, I think they’re going to hire me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s wonderful! Congratulations!” She paused as the bartender brought their drinks. Then she picked hers up and held it aloft, “We should drink for that. Salute to the promise of job offers and to gallant gentlemen who come to a lady’s rescue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and ducked his head, suddenly feeling extremely bashful. He glanced at her sideways out of the corner of his eye. She was gorgeous - the way her long hair fell down around her face and the bright sparkle of her eyes in the dim bar light. But she looked so young - she could be young enough to be his daughter! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just shrugged, “You’re welcome, just doing what any decent man would do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would be surprised how few of them exist.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That makes me sad.” He sipped his drink, watching as she delicately licked at a spot of moisture on the rim of the glass - arousal rocketing through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and leaned forward to brace her elbows on the bar. “So, Paul with a job interview, where are you from?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and gave a small shrug. “Nowhere special - a small town in Ohio.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everywhere is special for some reason. For example, your small Ohio town is special because that’s where you came from.” She laughed and took another sip of her drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushed a little deeper and frowned. He knew she was flirting with him - an entirely new experience. He just wasn’t used to women being this forward with him. He scrambled to come up with some kind of response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he got the chance to say anything, she said, “And that sounds like a big change - although, DC is not as large as some cities.” She was clearly giving him an out - momentarily, he felt a bit let down, not entirely sure he actually wanted an out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well...I, uh, I’m doing it for my son. He’s had some personal issues lately, but he’s going to Georgetown in the fall. So, I decided I wanted to help him get a fresh start and I also want a fresh start.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your son okay now?” Her voice sounded concerned, as she placed her hand on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Awash in the warmth of her hand on his, Paul was quiet for a moment, he thought about the photo Burt had sent - Dave and Kurt cuddled on a couch, both with wide smiles on their faces. He smiled at her, “Yes. He’s getting better every single day.” He pulled out his phone and held up the photo. “My son, Dave, is the bigger guy with the goofy smile on his face. The other guy is his boyfriend, Kurt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s very handsome - like his father. And they look happy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and nodded, looking back at the photo. “They are. He is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was surprised when she, again, placed her very cool hand on top of his. Her hand looked so small in comparison to his large meaty paw. Suddenly, brazenly, he found himself turning his hand over and taking hold of hers. She looked down at their hands, a look of surprise on her face, as though she was utterly surprised at this development, but not disappointed by it. Then she smiled again. “I’m glad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am too, believe me.” He licked his, suddenly, very dry lips and ran his thumb slowly over the top of her hand. As he did, it felt like his entire hand was burning up and he knew he was blushing again. But he met her smile. “I’m not usually so forward, I apologize.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Her voice dropped suddenly. “I don’t think you’ve done anything to apologize for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to come off as rude or like the guys you were dealing with earlier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re polite and kind, nothing like those guys. And so far not a single lude thing has come out of your mouth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lude? If you want me to go defend your honor, I’d be happy to…” He tightened his grip slightly and rubbed circles into her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I would prefer you continue what you’re doing right now, please.” Her eyes closed very slowly, a small smile playing on her lips. ‘So...tell me Handsome Paul, and this is me being very forward, are you single?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and took a sip of his drink, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “Young lady - you look like you’ve barely seen the other side of thirty, whereas I am firmly in my forties…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m thirty-one, actually. And I don’t generally care about age.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her face for a second - unsure of exactly what he was looking for. Perhaps some indication that whatever was going on was the result of some fever dream. Because Paul had a hard time believing that a woman as beautiful as Michelle was would ever be interested in him. And yet, she was looking at him with such earnest, such interest. And there was this small almost seductive smile on her face. He licked his lips slowly, then nodded. “I’m single. Been divorced for a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Ah - hence the son, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. He’s eighteen - my ex-wife and I divorced about three and half years ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to hear that. I know divorce is hard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is. And I’m not sorry - it wasn’t the most pleasant of marriages. But..” He was going to force himself to ask this - no matter how scary it might sound in his head. “...may i ask, are you single?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Yes, I’m quite single…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A beautiful young woman like you? That sounds preposterous.” His eyes widened at his own forwardness - he was actually flirting! And he never flirted. He usually found himself exceptionally awkward around women. It was probably why he preferred the company of his son and his best friend. And yet, this woman had managed to put him at such ease that he wanted to flirt with her. He’s enjoying himself so much.. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “My last boyfriend was a bit of an idiot and decided our twenty-one year old neighbor was more interesting than his long term girlfriend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a fool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was one. And I don't generally suffer fools.” Her hand slid a little further up on his arm, cupping his bicep gently. “I - uh - I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I’m never like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to physically stop himself from moaning at the sensation of her touching his arms. He whispered, “I never suffer fools.” He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her hand on his arm, swallowing thickly as he leaned a little closer to her and placed his hand on her leg. Her skin was warm and soft and he could smell her perfume - it was faint and evocative. He wanted to drown in that smell. “Nor am I. But, please tell me if I’m crossing a line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched him for a moment, shaking her head. “No lines have been crossed, Paul. But, my god, you’re a complete stranger. And yet, I feel completely safe in your company.” She brushed her fingernails across his cheek. “It must be the serious dad vibes you put out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a small scowl, but let his thumb dance against her chin. “Uh - the fastest way to kill a moment is to refer to me as dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duly noted. How about if I call you handsome?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “Better.” What was he doing! She was thirteen years younger than him! Paul! What are you doing! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped off the chair, moving to stand between his knees, almost pressing herself to him. The scent of her perfume was even stronger now - it enveloped him entirely. He swallowed thickly. She cupped his face with one hand, her palm cool against his skin, and she smiled. “Paul, I’m going to kiss you now, just so you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He practically felt his face shift into a look of surprise. What on earth was happening! He came down here for a drink, not to kiss some strange women. He felt himself growing hot. This was so unlike him - he didn’t behave like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then - as happens so very often - he thought about Dave. About a dinner conversation he and Dave had had about a few weeks earlier - just when Kurt had finally admitted to liking Dave. They’d been in the middle of their taco salads, when suddenly Dave had stopped eating, stared at him and announced, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad - as much as I hate talking about dating with you - you know if you ever want to date, you should! Any lady would be fucking lucky to have you!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at this gorgeous woman - her black hair like a dark halo - who was looking at him with such desire, it was enough to take his breath away. Her lips were parted slightly and he could see the slight pink of her tongue - he suddenly very much wanted to know what her lips tasted like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew exactly what Dave would say if he were here right now, he would give his dad a fist bump and whisper, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Go for it dad! Come on!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> So, Paul smiled - wide and in a tone that he hoped was at least a little seductive said. “I would like that very much, Michelle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling right back at him, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. As her soft lips moved against his, bringing with it hints of strawberry and champagne, Paul’s entire world shifted on its axis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let his hands fall to her hips, pulling her forward so he could press her to him. She moaned as he wrapped his arms around her - one hand slipping into her hair while the other resting against the small of her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped and almost toppled right off the barstool as her hot tongue pushed into his mouth. He heard her laugh and felt her long fingers rake through his hair - he almost groaned at the sensation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pulled back slightly, keeping her face almost inches from his - their breath mingling. He pecked her gently on the lips. “That was really nice.” Hie whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was. I’d like to do it again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please… be my guest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw her glance around her, frowning. “I wonder if I might be a little more forward tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think being forward is working for both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, Handsome Paul, how would you like to show me what your room looks like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his face break out into a brilliant smile and, as he leaned in for another kiss, he thought, well this was about to be a very interesting night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sex, some people say was like riding a bike - you never forget how to do it. And sure, maybe that’s true on an utterly ‘how-to’ level, but as far as Paul was concerned, anyone who actually said that, they were having sex wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because riding a bike had never felt like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sex with Michelle had been unlike anything Paul had ever experienced before. It was wild, passionate, sensual and almost decadant. This was going to be a night he wouldn’t be forgetting for a long time - especially given the marks on his back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered in pleasure as he remembered the feeling of her skin on his - slick with sweat and almost scorching to the touch. Or the way she scratched her long nails across his back when he pushed into her for the first time, causing him to arch upwards with a loud growl, or the way she bit down on his neck as his fingers slipped inside her. Or the way her long black hair moved like waves across his chest as she explored his body with her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned and shifted in bed, feeling himself get aroused for the millionth time tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, God, the almost perfect way their bodies fit together like long lost puzzle pieces - it had almost made every single strand of hair on his body stand on end. And the gentle and quietly reassuring way she had brushed aside his insecurities after he’d taken his clothes off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m probably not what  you were expecting - I’m older and I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” He’d prodded his belly slightly, frowning with a burning blushing coloring his face and neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’d waved it all away, pulling him in for a searing and almost devastating kiss. Her voice breathy and needy with want, “You’re perfect, Paul. Handsome, Strong. Incredibly sexy. And wonderfully sweet. Now come here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, like a man desperate for absolution, he had fallen to his knees, ready to worship her for as long as he was allowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now - as he lay in bed, body tingling with the over stimulation of a night of rather fantastic sex - he felt almost giddy with the knowledge of what he’d done tonight. He never did things like this - never picked up women in bars or let himself go so freely when it came to sex - and it felt intoxicating to do so. With Michelle, he felt like he could explore all the million little parts of himself. He moaned quietly as he licked his lips - he could still taste her, could still feel her writhing beneath him. In some weird way, this felt almost like fate - like he was supposed to meet her in that bar. Like he was supposed to fall into her arms tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed contentedly as he heard the bathroom door open. He pushed himself up against the headboard and watched as she padded towards the bed, humming some unrecognizable song, flaunting her nakedness despite the open curtains. She slipped back onto the bed, and rolled into his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his face into her hair as he held her tightly. “So, I will honestly say thatI don’t normally do this kind of thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled against his neck. “Pick up women in hotel bars or just have sex in general?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, “Is it sad if I say both? But I am the father of a rather emotionally volatile teenager, so I don’t exactly get many opportunities to do so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a shame - you’re good at it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sex or the picking up women in bars?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both. And you’re also quite nice to snuggle against. Very warm and cuddly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. If I have my way, though, some of this weight is going to go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, only if that’s what you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup - my kid and I are on a diet, which you wouldn’t know based on everything I’ve eaten today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed - it was like warm waves of air rolling across his skin. He smiled as she snuggled closer against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced down and saw that her necklace had slipped so that the pendant was sitting against her shoulders - it was a small Star of David. He reached out and fingered it. “Are you religious?” He tried to keep the whisper of distaste out of his voice. But there had been too many arguments over religion and the demands of an oppressive God with Linda for him to remain objective. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed and shook her head. “God no. I mean, my family observes the high holy days - mostly the fun ones - but we don’t keep kosher or anything.” She shifted so she was braced on an elbow, looking up at him. “I take it from your tone, that you are not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul lay there for a moment, thinking about how to best answer this. How to best express his views on religion without sounding awful. Finally, he shook his head, “The law is my religion.” He gave a small shrug, unsure if that was exactly what he wanted to say - but there’s no real other way to say it. “Yeah, I suppose that’s it really. I see the law as my ultimate religion - it is what is supposed to keep us safe and protected and what is supposed to help us when we need it. It is what makes us better people - if we follow the law, we shouldn’t fail each other or hurt each other. It is what you can use to stand up to the evil in this world - and even when there is evil, when the bullies get you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, realizing that without thinking about it, he was talking about Dave. He was not surprised to hear his voice breaking when he spoke again. “When...when there is evil and those bullies get to you...the law is supposed to be there. Stopping them. And if they still get to you - then the law will judge them and punish them.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her fingers across his cheek, smiling sadly. “Is this about your son?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes it is - my son was...bullied for being gay. He was gay based so badly that four months ago, he tired to take his own life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My god. Paul, that’s...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found him..” He interrupted her, not wanting those same words of sympathy and sorrow to come from her lips. “...he tried to hang himself - but I got there in time. I saved him. And for the past four months, I’ve done nothing but try to make him safe. This trip, it’s like the final step - getting him out of that fucking town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lay there, a sad look on her face, then she moved slowly to press their lips together. He moaned into the kiss, but it was not a sexual kiss. It was a kiss of reassurance and a promise of tomorrow. As she pulled away, she whispered, “I’m so sorry that happened to you and your son, Paul. That’s...disgusting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you - I’m so proud of him. He’s doing so well and he’s come so far.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her fingers through his goatee, giggling at his squirming. Then she lay back down, head propped against his chest. “Tell me what happened. Tell me about your son and about you. Before we sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the top of her head in surprise. “You want to stay? What about work tomorrow?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go in late. I was there until nine today - so I’m allowed a late start tomorrow. Now, tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay back, smiling. And then he talked. He told her about his son - about Dave’s fears and hurt and hope and sadness. About Dave’s depression and anger. He told her about his own fight for his son - about the things he’s done, both good and bad. But mostly he talked about his love for his boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And later, wrapped up in her arms, he had the best sleep he’s had in four months. </span>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the sun that woke him. There was this intense brightness in the room that should really not be there. At first, before he opened his eyes, he thought that he’d left the light on, maybe he’d fallen asleep while reading or something. But then he felt the warm and secure weight of another body in his arms. And it all came back to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hotel bar. The expensive gin and tonic. The slightly frightened eyes of a beautiful young woman needing help. Quiet conversations - gentle touches that alit flames of want in Paul that he hadn’t expected to feel. Then the pangs of mutual desire that eventually led back to his room and then... intense and almost mind bending sex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle - this raven haired beauty - that had so completely rocked his world last night in ways he hadn’t realized he needed it rocked - emotionally, physically, sexually.  A woman more than a decade his junior, who had gently and sweetly broken down his barriers, until he was screaming in ecstasy. And considering that Paul Karofsky was seen by many - unless you crossed him or his son - to be one of the most gentle, quiet, and mild mannered men alive, that was really saying something.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled and glanced down at her sleeping form. She was pressed against his side, an arm flung across his chest and her head pressed into the crook of his shoulder - which explained why his left arm was so numb. He could see the curve of her breast and he longed to press his lips to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he managed to tear his eyes away from her, hoping to figure out why the room was so bright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. They’d managed to fall asleep without actually closing the curtains - which meant they’d been in full view of the low rise apartment building all night. He had a momentary pang of worry that someone had seen them in the midst of their numerous nighttime activities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he remembered the sight of her body straddling his, and how beautiful she’d looked moving above him, and he found himself not really caring. If someone saw them, he hoped they were jealous beyond words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the clock next to the bed, it was still early - just after eight in the morning. Perhaps, he should wake her. He wasn’t sure when she needed to get to work, but he’d feel bad if she got in trouble. Despite his general anxieties over making her late, he was warm and comfortable with a beautiful woman in his arms. So, as much as his paternalistic side wanted to take control, the selfish side didn’t want to rush this - it didn’t want this moment to end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared up at the ceiling, keenly aware of the various aches in his body. Some were age, and some were the beautiful after effects of having vigorous sex. God, it had been so long since he’d felt like this. In fact, he almost had to struggle to remember when he last had sex. It had been months...no, more than a year ago. Yeah, the last time had been at that legal convention in Cincinnati last year, with that woman from Cleveland. And before that - Linda. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sex life with Linda had been - stagnant, uninteresting, and functional. Of course it had not always been that way. When they had first met, she’d been this free spirit - full of life and love and laughter. She had wanted to try everything - at least once - and she’d pulled Paul right along with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And him - well his childhood and teenage years had been so repressed and strictly monitored, that when he was given the chance to explore his sexuality with a beautiful girl - he’d been in heaven! And it had been some of the best years of his life. However, the pull for Linda to reestablish her religious and conservative roots had been too strong - especially when they conceived Dave outside of marriage. And he’d had no problem marrying her - he loved her and planned on doing so all along. But it seemed like the moment the marriage certificate had been signed, he found himself married to a different person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone who saw sex as the perfectionary duty of a wife, not something to enjoy. And by the time he turned forty, he was in a sexless and seemingly loveless marriage. One that was months past its expiration date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. He really didn’t want to think about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now. She was quite honestly the last thing he wanted on his mind. She led to awful thoughts - to bad dreams and tears. He sighed and closed his eyes - trying to force her out of his mind, and to focus on the warmth of the bed and the weight of Michelle in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned as thoughts of his ex-wife continued to cloud his brain - well, until a soft and carefully manicured hand started to rub gentle circles into his chest. Then, all at once, those thoughts of the devout and cruel woman back in Lima dissipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of lips pressed against his neck and slowly started to kiss down his chest. He groaned and turned into her touch, his body arching to press against her. She was staring at him with wide and sleepy eyes. “Good morning Handsome Paul.” She smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled lazily at her, loving how bold and sensual her touch made him feel. “Good morning, Beautiful. How did you sleep?” He said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderfully, you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best I’ve had in months. And I have to admit, I rather like waking up like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She purred softly as she stretched her neck up to kiss him. The kiss was long and languished, her tongue immediately exploring his mouth. He slid a hand down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her flush against him, moaning as she bit down on his bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God...Michelle...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just purred again and slowly trailed her hand down his chest and over the expanse of his stomach, until she was stroking him softly. He moaned and arched into her touch with a broken cry of “Oh yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed quietly and whispered, “Do we have any more of those condoms from that ridiculous pleasure package you bought from the front desk last night?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunted and nodded, already too lost in the sensations of her touch to respond with words. One hand flung out, grasping at the bedside table, scrambling to grab one of the foil packets there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh...I’ll get them. Just enjoy yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved like silk to straddle him, reaching out to grab one of the condoms. She placed both hands on his chest  - massaging slowly - grinning down at him. “So, I think we should see just how late we can make me today.” Then she leaned forward - her dark hair falling around his face like a curtain - and kissed him. He gripped her hips, running his thumbs over her olive skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? Don’t...ugh...don’t want you to be too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very sure.” She whispered, lips lightly touching his. “I’m so very sure.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His whole body shuddered. He felt so alive like this - so...oh fuck! He felt so young in her hands - and he wasn’t ready to stop. He had no desire to stop feeling like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, taking a page from whatever book on seduction he might have stored somewhere in the back of his brain, he gave himself over to her. Gave himself over to the sensations of her hands and her mouth, and her breasts and her vainga. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding firmly onto her hips, he flipped them over, so he was braced above her. Instantly, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He beamed down at her before pressing a kiss into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing a trail of hot wet kisses along her neck, he whispered, “Absolutely - let’s enjoy the morning.” Then he started to kiss down her body - being bold and brave - tasting her skin and enjoying the soft and very arousing sounds she made as he did. He smiled against her belly, relishing the feeling of her hands in his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached back and disentangled her legs from around him, sliding his hands up and over the calves and thighs - kneading gently as he went. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moaned as he moved lower - his hands tracing patterns into her skin. Fuck, he thought, as his he heard her breathe out his name in a breathless and throaty moan, who cares if he got the job or not - this alone made the whole trip worth it.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he pressed his mouth into her, tasting her, she screamed, “Oh God! Paul!” He smiled into her flesh - yeah, he was going to enjoy his morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he gave himself over to her and to his desire for her.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drained the rest of his latte as he watched the realtor, Mary Scott, walk out of the small cafe - a very patriotic themed bakery not far from the Georgetown campus. He and the realtor had just finished a rather pleasant chat about looking for a house in the DC area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had surprised him by suggesting that he look in exactly those areas he’d dismissed with his own internet research - Adams Morgan, Columbia Heights and Brightwood Park. He’d just assumed they would be too expensive, but she figured that he’d be selling his rather large Lima home for far above asking. So, he gave her the go ahead and to send him any properties she thought he might like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although, he was already somewhat in love with the fully detached Federal Style in Adams Morgan - he could already see Dave happily moving around that massive open concept kitchen or lounging in his room with the small patio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a note to text Mary later and let her know that he’d like to see more exactly like that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draining his coffee, he walked over to drop the empty cup into the dirty dishes bin. He glanced around the stark white cafe, noticing how many students were sitting there, with their laptops open. He was thankful that Mary had been willing to meet him near Georgetown so he could kill two birds with one stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d spent the morning - well, once he and Michelle had actually managed to extricate themselves from the hotel bed - checking out Dave’s new school, before meeting Mary. The school was perfect - all old buildings, tree lined walkways, and this constant buzz of student activity. It had felt like the exact right place for Dave to be going - especially when he walked into the massive building that housed the bookstore and saw dozens and dozens of rainbow flags and rainbow stickers - they had been almost everywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Paul thought, this is the exact right place to help Dave find himself - to help him find the acceptance he so badly needed. To help him grow into the man Paul knew he would eventually become. Paul didn’t have a single doubt in his mind - this would be exactly the right place that would help keep him safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, as he pulled on his messenger bag and picked up the Georgetown Bookstore bag - with a couple shirts and other things for Dave - he tried to figure out what he should do with the rest of his afternoon. It was barely one and his flight wasn’t for another six hours. Perhaps he would just head back to the Mall and go to one of the other Smithsonians before he had to pick up his suitcase from the hotel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or he could go check out the Capitol building and maybe swing by to see the White House, which he’d always wanted to see. But he probably should stop somewhere for lunch first - maybe someplace near the White House.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped just outside the small bakery, pulling out his phone to look for a restaurant near the White House, when the phone buzzed with a text. He saw he actually had two - one from Dave and one from Burt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened Dave’s first, it was a response to a photo he’d sent earlier of Georgetown’s main building, Healy Hall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s my school?! Jesus - am I going to Hogwarts?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed softly and wrote, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I asked them to sort you into Hufflepuff - but they insisted you seem more like a Gryffindor. I’m gonna check out the White House now!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He could just envision Dave’s massive eye roll when he read that. He knew Dave thought it ridiculous and hilarious whenever his poor old dad tried to be geeky in any way at all. Although he still liked to think about how astonished his son had looked when Paul had informed him that he’d seen Star Wars in theatres way back in 1977. Dave had insisted on Paul recreating every moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened Burt’s text, immediately regretting telling his friend about his little tryst last night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey how’s the studliest guy in DC? Hope you’re behaving! Beers tomorrow for a debrief of the last couple days?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That meant two things - first, Burt was never going to let him live down his little adventure with Michelle and two, that he’d talked to Kurt and knew exactly what Blaine had said to the boys on Monday. He was about to write back, when his phone started ringing. He felt this rush of excitement at the name on the screen and answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Beautiful.” He grinned as he started walking towards the Metro stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle’s voice was soft and alluring and he instantly felt aroused at the sound of it. “Hello Handsome Paul. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m great - just leaving Georgetown.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it meet expectations?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely - might have spent a small fortune on things for Dave from the bookstore though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed softly before saying, “You’re adorable. How was the realtor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She seems to think I can afford some very fancy houses - I’m half thinking about letting her talk me into it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to hear about these houses - I have an utter fascination with local real estate! So, may I ask, what are you doing now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to tell you about them! And I’m going to head over to the White House and probably find some lunch. Tell me, how’s work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well that’s the thing. I called in sick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused midstep. “Oh?” Already secretly hoping this was more than just a call to say hello. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah - I worked a fourteen hour day yesterday, and my night was pretty energetic, as you know, so I came home, called in sick and had a nice bubble bath.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds lovely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was. So, my next question is, when do you leave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help the heavy blush that was rising up his neck. “My flight is at seven, I should get to Reagan by six.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh… you have a lot of time, then. Now, what if I asked you to have lunch at my place, would you say yes or no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you asking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” Her laugh sounded like silver bells. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would say, screw the White House, I can see it when I move here. What’s your address?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started laughing louder and he was already raising his hand to flag down a cab. God, he’d never felt like this before. He’d never felt this adventurous. Or spontaneous! Yet, here he was, ready to race across town to spend the afternoon - probably naked - with a woman who took his breath away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, then again, wasn’t he a warrior? Hadn’t he gone to war for his son? Hadn’t he fought battle after battle to protect his son? So, maybe, just maybe, falling into the arms of a beautiful girl was his reward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t that what always happened in Dave’s sci-fi books and movies? Hadn’t Han Solo gotten the Princess in the end?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had faced so much - so much hurt and so much pain - that he should be allowed this small indiscretion? Or maybe, it was no small thing? Maybe it was...the start of his new life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had toiled and fought and bled and cried to protect what was his - and he was tired. The warrior gets to rest when he gets tired, doesn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, as Paul’s cab raced towards some place called Foggy Bottom, he involuntarily remembered one of the last battles he’d fought. One of the bloodiest and most vicious - a battle that almost ripped him aparat. A battle with a woman who had not been far from his thoughts these past couple of days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as he remembered, he gave his bitch of an ex-wife a mental double middle finger. Because, fuck you Linda, I have a beautiful woman who wants me. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>{March 2012}</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad - I don’t want to leave you.” Dave’s voice was broken and afraid. It sounded so similar to the day after his suicide attempt, when he’d looked at his dad in that stark and cold hospital room and said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t want to die, but it felt like no one wanted me.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of his son’s shattered voice, an anger unlike any other thus far raged through Paul. And he understood that he would kill for his son. He would destroy these two monsters if he needed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced back at Dave - their eyes locked - and he forced his face and eyes to take on his usual soft expression, the one Dave has grown used to. He forced his face to convey gentleness and love and softness.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go kid, I’ll be fine. I promise…” He dropped his voice to a whisper so only Dave could hear - he had no desire for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know where Dave was going. “I got this, okay? Go - I’ll be there soon and we can have dinner with Kurt’s family. I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see Dave wanting to fight him. Wanting to get out of the car and take on this woman and her flying monkey side by side. But he won’t allow that - no, Dave is still a minor. If she got her claws on him, and got him that car - he’d be lost to Paul. He silently willed Dave to listen to reason. Then, as if understanding the importance of this moment, Dave slowly climbed back into the Navigator next to Kurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the door closed and the car started to move, Linda yelled out, “Paul, please we can still stop this! We can still heal him. Make him better! Bring our angel back to God!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul waited until he was sure the car was backing up - he liked how fast Kurt was driving. He was actually mildly surprised the kid hadn’t run over Linda and her piece of trash minion. That kid had restraint, which would serve him well. He was also vicious in his protectiveness of Dave, so he definitely had Paul’s approval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the car turned out of sight, he spun back towards his ex-wife, eyes blazing with rage. He locked eyes with Linda and roared, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?” He moved forward, every action conveying exactly the amount of barely restrained violence he wanted to enact on these two. “You were warned! How dare you attempt to take my son!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul! David needs our help to find…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His scream was so loud and so angry that she stumbled back in shock. “Shut up you cunt!” He knew how much she hated vulgar language - so he was going to hammer her with it. He was so far beyond caring about this woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Karofsky!” The man with the dead eyes - Linda’s little howler monkey - pushed himself up from the pavement. “We are here to bring God’s love back to your son’s life and expunge the evil sins of homo…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely acknowledged the man’s existence, but growled in his direction. “If you keep speaking, I will rip your tongue out and shove it up your ass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he moved forward, advancing on Linda, with a feral look on his face. His entire body was shaking with unbridled rage. When he spoke, his voice was low and dark and very dangerous, “Now listen to me your bible thumping piece of shit. You have no rights to Dave - you signed that away when you gave me custody over his school and wellbeing. You are his mother in name only - so what you just did was essentially attempted child abduction. And I made you a promise - remember that Linda?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul! He’s my little boy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes - and you’re such a good mother that you’re going to send him off to be tortured, manipulated, and abused until he’s no longer himself, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul the only way to God is through…” Her voice, strangely, didn’t hold any of the fear he’d expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DO YOU REMEMBER MY PROMISE, YOU BITCH?!” He screamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fury rose and slammed against his with a white hot intensity. “Yes! I remember, you godless fuck! But if you won’t see reason, I will take matters into my own hands!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came for my boy, so I’ll come for you, Linda! And when I’m done - I will raze you, your fucking little church and your idiot god to the ground!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you, you heathen!” The little man moved so fast that Paul barely had time to notice. Suddenly, the guy was grabbing Paul’s shirt, ripping his collar, and pulling him forward, slamming his fist into Paul’s mouth. Paul grunted as he felt his bottom lip split wide open against the man’s knuckles and the sharpness of his own teeth. Stumbling back, Paul hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his hand to his mouth, touching the blood that was now flowing out of it, winching at the pain. He stared at the bright red blood on his hand - a veil of anger settling over his vision. Slowly, he lifted his face, peering at Linda and this little man through his eye lashes - it was a look of demonic anger. And he smiled. And oh god, how he loved the look of fear on their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sprang forward with all the power in his large thick footballer body - arm springing forward and slamming into the little bigot’s face. He heard the satisfying crunch of bone and the guy fell back, landing hard on the pavement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned back to Linda - his face dark with anger and hate for her. He was barely aware of another car pulling up, and the sound of Burt’s voice yelling his name - telling him to stop. But he was also aware that every one of his neighbors were on their front lawn, watching. All these people - all who had come by to check on him and Dave. All these people who loved Dave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Mr. Allen - a man who had told him that Linda’s religion scared him and he was glad Dave was okay. He saw Mrs. Murphy, a woman who had come by with cupcakes for Dave last week - each one decorated with a little rainbow. And he saw Dave’s ex-babysitter, Sarah Carlson, a girl who after Dave had been outed, started wearing a rainbow bracelet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good. They were his witnesses. Let them watch - let them see what this woman was. What kind of mother she had become. He wanted witnesses - needed them - for what would come next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He roared again - like the protective father he had evolved into. “You tried to kidnap my child! You tried to steal Dave to imprison him in a conversion therapy camp! You threatened my family! And then this little bigot attacked me! And you did it all in front of witnesses! How dare you! How fucking stupid you are!? You are not worthy of being his mother! You are not worth being anyone’s mother!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he stepped closer, his voice dropping, so only she - and Burt, who was now at his side, gripping his arm and trying to restrain him - could hear. “I warned you Linda. I warned you - but now you’ve done the one thing that I warned you not to do. You and your church are about to get a rude awakening. So, understand this - I don’t care what you and I once were, you are as good as dead to me. And if you come near my son again - you will regret it. I will destroy everything about you. Everything. I have already ruined more than one life to protect Dave - destroying you will be easy for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her. He stared at her - expecting her to meekly pull back, like so many others had done in the face of his rage. So, he was mildly impressed when she stepped forward and met him - her anger simmered - her hand shooting out to slap him. The pain was immense - but it only helped to stroke the anger that raged in him.</span>
</p><p><span>“No! My son is no filthy sodomite! My son is no</span> <span>pervert like </span><em><span>his</span></em><span> abomination of nature!” She gestured at Burt, but she kept her eyes locked on Paul. His rage spiked even more - he had no idea how that was possible - but he wanted justice for his Dave, he wanted revenge for her hurtful words about a boy that had shown his son nothing but love. He wanted justice for what she was doing! He bolted forward, hands reaching out to grab her - to rip her, to tear at her and make her hurt for those words. </span></p><p>
  <span>But before he could close his hands on her, Burt yanked him back, his scream so loud it echoed in the street. “PAUL NO!” Burt gripped Paul, twisting him roughly so they were face to face. “No! She will have you arrested! You know that! And then Dave will be alone! And she can get to him! This is what she wants, Paul! Listen to me! Goddamn it! LISTEN TO ME! You need to calm down - think! Paul, just think!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked hard - Burt’s words pushed through the anger. And the world slowly came back into focus, the red veil he’d been seeing out of lifted slightly. Fuck! Fuck! Burt was right! If he gave in to his anger - if he even laid one finger on her, Dave would be lost! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had reasonable defense - self defense - to protect him over punching the little man - the guy had punched first. But if he allowed her to goad him, it would be over. He couldn’t protect Dave from a jail cell. He stared at Burt - and he could feel the onslaught of tears coming. “Burt…” His voice was a whimper. A cold spike of fear starting to cool the angry inferno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know buddy. I know. Think, man. Just think. All I’ve seen, since February, is a Paul who has kept a completely level head through so much! And you’ve done some awesome shit to keep Dave safe. That Paul would not punch this bigot without having a plan in place to protect Dave! Where’s that guy? What would that Paul do?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and breathed. Burt was right - he just had to think. He had to be rational. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind - he’d taken down a school, locked up a little homophobic fuck, orchestrated an entire honor guard for Dave, and rendered Dave’s ex-best friend’s bigotry impotent. He could handle this! It all came back to the law. He would fall back on the law. She might think she had some righteous higher power on her side, but fuck it - he had the law! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking, he turned back to her - his rational mind already reasserting itself. “If that’s all you can think of when you think of our son, then you really don’t get Dave at all. He’s awesome, Linda. He’s kind and sweet and he’s nerdy and funny and silly. And if all  you see is perversion - then you need to examine your priorities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, smiling as he saw Sandra Carlson’s police cruiser pull to a halt next to them. He grinned his most angry smile at Linda, “And you need to get your house in order, because I and the law will come for you now. You just attempted to kidnap a child - and your little friend there just assaulted me. In front of witnesses.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared at him, her voice defiant in its absurdity. “God is more powerful than any law you try to hide behind!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul rolled his eyes, as Sandra stepped out of her car - she looked furious. He turned to her, ready to demand she arrest Linda and the bleeding man on the ground, but before he could say anything, Mr. Allen yelled out  - “That woman tried to kidnap David!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well done, Mr. Allen, Paul thought as he stepped up to Sandra. “I want to report an attempted kidnapping and assault. And I want to talk to Prosecutor Stirling, I want a restraining order against this woman and I would like you to arrest both of them - I believe she has harmful intentions against my son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandara regarded Linda coldly. “You got it, Paul. I already called Stirling when the call came in - I’m sure he’s already waiting for you. And I bet he’ll be excited to talk to these two.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he watched Sandra approach Linda and her little man, Burt came up to stand next to him. He reached out and gripped Paul’s arm, whispering gently, “Unclench your fist Paul, he’s safe.” Paul looked down and saw small beads of blood from where his fingernails had cut into the flesh of his palm. He opened his hand and a rush of pain made him whimper slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wavered slightly on his feet as the adrenaline began to leave his system - he gripped Burt’s shoulder as a wave of lightheadedness swept over him. Burt grabbed hold of him, holding tightly. “I got you, I got you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were going to take him, Burt! They tried to take my son!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and Paul the Superhero saved him. Because that’s what you do - you always save him. He’s safe - he’s with Carole and Finn And Kurt.” Burt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, keeping him upright. “Now, come on,” Burt said, “Let’s go get you and Dave a change of clothes - you're staying with us tonight. No questions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded and shuffled forward. He nodded at Mr. Allen and Sarah Carlson, who had stepped forward to help him. He leaned heavily on Burt - his sniffles starting to increase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused at his front door, turning to watch as his ex-wife was placed into the backseat of Sandra’s cruiser - another predator would be vanquished today. He would follow them to the station, and he would watch as they were crushed by the law. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandra moved towards Mrs. Murphy, taking her statement. He would give his soon enough, but for now he needed to get inside - he had maybe seconds left. “Burt...inside…”  Grunting, Burt opened the door and ushered them inside. Then, Paul crumbled - his knees hitting the floor as a wail of misery erupted from him. He grasped at his friend, sobbing into him. Sobbing so hard he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stop crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he would. He’d cry for now - cry in the arms of his best friend - and then he’d pull himself together, walk out that door, go to the police station and keep fighting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would just keep fighting.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later - sitting at Burt and Carole’s kitchen table, with Dave safely sleeping a valium induced sleep upstairs, Paul sipped at a glass of whiskey. He winced as the strong alcohol washed over his wounded lip. He had come to a resolution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting him out of here, Burt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt wasn't surprised in the least, he’d been expecting this. “Good. How?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked at him, the same conviction that had lived on his face for a month, “Any way that I fucking can. Whatever it takes. But he and I are leaving, and so help me god, I will never come back to this town again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt was quiet for a moment - a sense of worry for his friend sitting in his chest. Then he said, with a smile, “Pick some place warm, yeah? So at least when I want to spend all my time with you, I have a reason to convince Carol to come along?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul huffed a laugh. He sat for a moment, then his face crumpled and more hot tears washed down his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burt reached out and gripped Paul’s arm. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m scared. I’m angry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen you that angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that angry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to kill her. Isn’t that disgusting? I used to lover her, and now I want to kill her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not the same woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a monster, that’s what she is. How was I ever married to that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, even so, she gave you Dave - and I’m pretty grateful for that, Paul.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am too. God, Burt...I swear, I will do whatever I have to...whatever it takes to keep him safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, short of literally blowing up this town, I’m not sure what more you can do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded and gripped his friend’s hand. He was worried that he would have to find out - that he still would have to find out exactly how far he’d need to go. The body count was racking up - Thruston, Nick Thompson and his parents, Figgins, Azimio. And now Linda and her church. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Linda had failed him - she had failed and betrayed Dave. She was not worthy of his or Dave’s attention. He sighed and lifted his glass, shaking it to encourage Burt to refill it. Which he did, liberally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another day. Another battle. He was tired, so he’d sit here in a dark kitchen with his best friend, drinking some very nice whiskey - that was a pretty good reward. But he did wonder - at the end of the war, what kind of reward would be waiting for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But just seeing Dave happy - if that could happen, he’d get his reward.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><h3>
  <b>{May 2012}</b>
</h3><p>
  <span>The sound of her laughter roused him from his half slumber. Grunting, he shifted on the bed, tangling himself in the sheets beneath him. He had no real desire to move as he was entirely too comfortable - lying, naked and spread out on her bed with his ass in the air. Groaning, he buried his face deeper into the pillow. Oh god! He wanted to steal this damn pillow. It smelled like her - that beautiful enticing scent of her perfume, mingling with the peppermint from her conditioner - and underneath all that, was a smell so uniquely her. It was so completely intoxicating, relaxing and deeply arousing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus - was he getting aroused again? When, exactly, in the last two days, did he become a horny teenager again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt her settle on the bed, next to him. Her hand gently resting on the curve of his ass, rubbing slowly. He didn’t move - just moaned into the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul? Did you seriously fall asleep?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered responding, but decided it was too much effort - lying with his face buried in her pillows was much nicer. He sighed and smiled into the pillow.. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard her give another laugh, and then there was the sound of a hard smack, followed by a searing hot pain exploding across his ass. His entire body jumped at the force of the impact. He yelled out and rolled onto his back, glaring at her - grumpily frowning at being ripped away from the comfort of her bed and pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just spank me!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, she reclined onto the bed, already pulling him against her. “Woke you up, didn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He willingly let himself fall against her, sighing as he pressed his face into her skin. “How many more little marks am I going to have after this?” He nuzzled into her, pressing a kiss into the hollow of her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers danced gracefully across his skin, probing at the most prominent mark she’d inadvertently given him earlier while they’d been wrapped up in each other - her mouth sucking and biting at his neck, while he’d cried out desperately for more. She sighed, “I am so sorry for this. Do you think it’ll be obvious?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright - I’ve never had one before. And we’ll find out when I put my clothes back on. Not that I actually want to do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I would much rather keep you here, preferably naked in my bed, but we need to get you back to your son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded, a smile coming across his face at the thought of seeing Dave soon. As much as he’d enjoyed this little adventure - all the parts of it - he was ready to see his Dave again. To hug him and tell him how much he was loved. So, with that in mind, he squeezed Michelle tightly, kissing one more time, then rolled off the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he pulled on his pants, he glanced back at her. She was lying on her side, propped up on an elbow with one leg bent - her soft pink silk robe had fallen open by her breasts - exposing her long sleek midriff. He almost whimpered at the sigh of all that irresistible olive skin. She looked so beautiful. He stopped and stared at her, enjoying the way she blushed under his gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat back down next to her, running his hand across the soft skin of her stomach. “You’re so beautiful, Michelle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her soft features broke out into a wide smile. “Thank you Handsome Paul. You’re quite the looker yourself.” She sat up and moved onto her knees, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a kiss. He responded eagerly - wishing he had another couple of hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, he pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “I wish I could stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Me too. But, Dave is waiting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I really miss him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think, despite having known you for less than twenty-four hours, I have greatly come to know exactly how much you love your son. And I think it is wonderful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. He had not expected this - certainly had not planned on it - but this mysterious and alluring woman had utterly broken down his barriers. He liked feeling this way - like the easy and sensual manner she managed to pull him towards an edge he never thought he’d see again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Linda - hell, even during their marriage - Paul had lost touch with this person. The man who liked laughing, who liked being with another person, the man who loved sex. Linda had killed him - but in the last eighteen hours, this beautiful woman had helped him find that man again. And he was so grateful. And as much as he was responding to her, she seemed to respond to him with equal intensity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in, a small measure of hope rising in his chest. “Michelle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Paul?” She said, cording her fingers through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we keep talking? After I leave, that is. I’m not sure if you’re actually interested in a forty-four year old man with an eighteen year old kid, but I quite like you and I’d be interested in exploring this. If you’re also interested?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled him closer to her, pressing his face into her neck - he gave it a teasing lick. She laughed and swatted his arm. “We’re being serious here! No licking! And yes, Paul, I am. I told  you - I don’t care about our age difference. And the love you have for your son, it makes you all the sexier. So, yes, please let’s keep talking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, pulling back from her neck, and dove in to press his lips to hers - kissing her deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She whispered against his lips, “You know - if I drove you...we have at least an extra thirty minutes. And I bet we can even stop at the White House gift shop on the way to the airport.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a lot I can do in thirty minutes.” He growled as he pushed her back against the mattress, her scream of surprise and joy ringing in the apartment. He scrambled to unbuckle shove off his pants while his mouth moved across her body and his hands pushed aside her robe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later - other, much more erotic noises filled the rooms of Michelle’s apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-/-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to walk me to security, Michelle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing this for entirely selfish reasons.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? And what are those?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So everyone who sees you, knows exactly who gave you...that!” She gently placed a finger against his neck and the large bright purple mark that sat high above his shirt collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and covered her hand with his own. “Oh, yeah - I can’t tell you how excited I am for Dave to make fun of me relentlessly tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and stepped in front of him, looping her arms around his neck. “Handsome Paul, you have been the best surprise to happen to me in a very long time. I am so glad I decided to have a drink last night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So am I. I’m also secretly glad that those guys were assholes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for rescuing me and then...well  you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you Beautiful. This has been amazing. You have, without a doubt, been the best part of this trip.” He kissed her, letting go of his suitcase and wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her loosely in his arms. “This beats everything else that’s happened to me since I arrived.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even more than seeing your son’s future home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The race is tight. So how about we call it a tie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy to tie with David’s future.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and kissed her again. Then, reluctantly, he said, “Okay, Beautiful, I should go. My flight is in thirty minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” She leaned in for another kiss, which he returned eagerly, moaning softly into her mouth. And her hands clutched at his shirt, holding him tightly. He didn’t want to walk away. He found, to his surprise, that he wanted to take her home with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, he stepped back, picked up his suitcase, and held out his hand. She took it, squeezing lightly. “May I call you before bed? It might be late - I think I need to talk to Dave about something important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a knowing look, they had talked about Paul’s tentative plan while driving to the airport. “You know I’ll stay up - I can read that book I found at the White House. And don’t be nervous, it will be alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” He ran his fingers across her chin, smiling brightly. “Okay, Beautiful. I’ll talk to you soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tightened her hold on him. Her breathy voice whispering in his ear. “Goodbye, Handsome Paul.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at the pet name, then after one more long lingering kiss and a final squeeze of the hand, he turned and hurried towards security. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel her eyes on him the entire way, even as he stepped behind the opaque glass - disappearing from her sight. He felt giddy and electric - like his blood had been replaced with electricity. Every nerve ending was tingling - and it was all because of her. He felt so different - so much younger than he had when he’d arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as though being here - being in this city, meeting the people he’d met, seeing the things he’d seen, and then falling into the arms of a woman who felt unreal to him...all of those things had turned the clock back for Paul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked quickly back down the long hallways of Ronald Reagan Airport, towards his gate, he knew undoubtedly that these last two days had completely changed him. He had fought a war - the last four months had been one long battle. And he’d done some dirty things, but all in the name of his son. And he’d found his reward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stood at the gate, waiting to board, he pulled his phone out and sent Dave a text - </span>
  <em>
    <span>About to board, see you soon kid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he saw that Michelle had already messaged - he smiled as he read her message - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Safe travels Handsome Paul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sank onto one of the seats at the gate, his body aching in places it had not ached in a long time, and he realized that, for the first time there, was no bad mood over having to travel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh? Maybe he didn’t hate travelling quite as much as he thought he did.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title: Gimme Shelter by the Rolling Stones</p><p>Thank you for coming with me on this little diversion with Paul. As his and Dave's stories begin to converge - bringing us closer to DC - you will hear more from Paul. I hope you enjoy reading his voice as much as I enjoy writing it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. And all is darkness in my room / Through the light your face I see</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the incredible delay in posting anything new - I hope you like the new chapters...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Dave</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ashoka lept down from her hiding place amongst some rocky outcropping, sweeping her lightsaber in a wide arc as she fell and decapitating a squadron of droids in one sweep. She landed in a crouch, her arms poised, ready for the next attack. She listened for a moment - closing her eyes and pushing out with the Force. Searching and hunting for something. Anything. There was nothing. Except…  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She switched off her lightsaber, holding it loosely in her hand - prepared and waiting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, a scream of rage filled the air as Asajj Ventress flew down from above, her sabers burning. Ashoka moved like a blur - performing a beautiful, delicate, and deadly dance - her lightsaber flashing dangerously… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know - anyone with a damn brain could have seen that one coming,” Dave said quietly to the empty living room as he tossed another handful of popcorn in his mouth. Chewing noisily, he tucked the blanket a little tighter around his waist and settled a little deeper against the couch cushions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing towards the living room doorway, he wondered when his dad was going to show up. It had been over an hour since his dad had texted saying he’d landed, which meant he should be walking through that door soon, especially knowing his dad tended to develop a lead foot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But until then, he’d just settle in and wait - Ashoka could keep him company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrated with a new text message. He smiled when he saw Kurt’s name. God, even just seeing Kurt’s name made him giddy. Fuck, he loved having a boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I really hate dad-son bonding time when it involves spending my evening at Home Depot looking at new plumbing fixtures. I miss you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p><span>Dave laughed, knowing exactly how much Kurt hated this. He quickly typed, </span><em><span>I miss you too!</span></em> <em><span>But you love interior decorating! Think of all the cute facets you could pick out!</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Dave sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. He really missed his boyfriend. He missed the feeling of Kurt’s hand in his. He missed the weight of Kurt’s body in his arms, which he’d had almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> night last night. God, he missed the way Kurt’s hair had felt against his face while they lay in bed. The way he smelled, breathed, laughed… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just missed everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last night had been magical - falling asleep in the same bed holding Kurt had been like a dream he’d never wanted to wake up from! And when Kurt’s alarm had gone off at five in the morning, forcing Kurt to sneak back to his room, Dave had simply buried his face into Kurt’s pillow, drinking up the scent. He felt like he was completely lost in the sensation of having Kurt there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all day today, Dave had floated. That was the only way he could describe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana had been convinced that they’d had sex. But he’d just shook his head and proudly announced, “Nope I’m still a blushing virgin! But we slept in the same bed and snuggled, and it was perfect. San, it was absolutely perfect.” She had gagged and punched his arm, calling him the lamest gay bear in the world. But he didn’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was happy and in love. He was just one giant idiot bear in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing could bring him down all day - not Blaine’s glowering glare or Az’s slightly creepy stare. No, he got to spend the night in the same bed as his boyfriend - something he’d never thought would or could ever happen - so he was going to stay camped out on cloud nine all fucking day. He was pretty sure he’d hummed his way through his morning classes and lunch, where he got to hold Kurt’s hand. Then, there had been a lot more humming all afternoon. Heck, he wasn’t even sure he’d actually come down yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But sadly, he was without a boyfriend tonight since Burt had announced that he wanted to have a bonding night with Kurt. Dave had given an enthusiastic thumbs up - despite Kurt’s obvious glare. But the chances of Dave saying anything against Burt were pretty much next to zero. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, after being dropped off and getting one hell of a goodbye kiss from Kurt, Dave was happily ensconced on the couch in his PJs and the Boba Fett tank top that Kurt had bought him, with a giant bowl of popcorn and the Clone Wars on TV. It was - all things considered - a perfect Dave evening. All that would make it better was if he could have Kurt tucked up next to him, but he’d settle for the occasional text message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned as his phone vibrated again. He knew how sneaky Kurt could be with his texting, but he also knew that Burt hated not having Kurt’s full attention during their bonding nights. For a moment, Dave considered doing a little flirting, just to test how good of a sneaky texter Kurt could be - he always got a little flustered when flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it was not his boyfriend. It was Finn. Dave smiled at his friend’s name - perhaps one of the most surprising things to come of the last few months was his friendship with Kurt’s stepbrother. They talked a lot. They had cleared the air from last year, which had meant another hard apology from Dave, but then just settled into a really awesome friendship. They talked about Dave’s depression, Finn’s anxieties over what to do after high school, teenage romances, video games…just everything. If Kurt had been best friend turned boyfriend, then Finn was a casual acquaintance turned best friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, Finn was his and Kurt’s biggest cheerleader, which earned him some brownie points. Dave tapped on the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey! I don’t know if you and K have plans on Saturday, but Sam wants to go see Avengers for like the third time. You in?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers hovered over the phone. His dad had taken him to see the movie last week, but it would be kind of cool to see it with friends, plus he was sure he could convince Kurt to go too. It would be like a date, but with friends. He was about to say yes when Finn texted again - </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you say yes, I’ll convince Kurt to come too. Please say yes. I wanna hang wit you!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave laughed at Finn’s pathetic attempt to sound ghetto. The guy was a huge dork! Without another thought, he typed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes! Let’s do it! </span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>And even if Kurt didn't want to go, it didn't mean that Dave couldn’t spend the day with his friends </span><em><span>and</span></em> <em><span>then</span></em><span> go hang out with his boyfriend. Cause that’s what being in a relationship was all about, right? Yeah - it was a perfectly normal relationship thing. Cause Dave was in a perfectly normal relationship. And it was awesome!</span></p><p><span>Just as he was about to drop his phone on the couch, Kurt texted - </span><em><span>He’s not looking at facets. We’re talking about copper piping, Dave. COPPER PIPING!</span></em> <em><span>I’ve never been so bored!</span></em></p><p>
  <span>For half a second, Dave almost wrote back something that was far more vulgar than flirty, but that felt all kinds of weird. So, he went with cute flirty - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you need me to tutor you on being straight? I did it for years. First lesson - grunt a lot.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly, Kurt had found a corner or something where he could openly text, because the response was almost instantaneous - </span>
  <em>
    <span>You still grunt a lot, it’s just cuter now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He also saw another text from Finn had arrived - man, he was popular tonight! But Kurt had his full attention. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do not grunt a lot! I’ve evolved beyond my caveman days, remember. Unless you want me to be all Tarzan to your Jane.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Switching over to Finn’s message, he laughed out loud at the dorky selfie Finn had sent. He was clearly sitting on his bed - video game headset on - and sticking his tongue out while giving a thumbs up to the camera. Shaking his head, Dave was about to type a reply, when he opened the camera instead - cocking his head, sticking his tongue out, and throwing out a hands horn sign. He knew Finn would love it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurt had also replied - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, you would look amazing in a loincloth, so I’m not opposed to the idea. Damn! Dad’s coming back, I gotta go. Call me later, okay?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>For half a second, Dave considered looking to see if he could buy a loincloth on Amazon, but then the intense burn of a blush overwhelmed him, and he decided to ignore that entire suggestion. Instead, he wrote back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay! I’ll call you before I go to sleep. Thinking of you, babe!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to flop back onto the sofa when he saw that Finn had texted back. He wasn’t used to this much activity on his phone! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn had sent another stupid selfie. This time posing with his Xbox controller on his head. He had a puzzled expression on his face - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is there something on my head?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave laughed, a huge smile spreading over his face. He muttered softly, “Oh my god, you fucking weirdo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t about to be outdone. Shoving a huge fistful of popcorn in his mouth so his cheeks bulged, he plopped the popcorn bowl on his head and crossed his eyes. Trying not to choke with laughter, he managed to take a selfie and sent it to Finn - </span>
  <em>
    <span>MY HEAD IS POPCORN! SEND HELP! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like he had regressed in age about ten years, but it also felt so good to have normal friends like this again. His life still felt so unreal. But as good as it felt - as happy as he was to be swapping stupid selfies with Finn - it was also tinged with sadness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still hated himself for being so scared last year. He and Finn could have been friends for much longer. Fuck, he could have had Finn and Kurt and Mercedes and Santana and even Rachel in his life for a whole lot longer.  If only he’d been more willing to try. But trying had been so scary - and he’d been filled with so much anger and so much sadness. Bravado and anger had been much easier. God, how he wished he could just go back in time and grab that scared sixteen-year-old kid, shove him in the direction of Kurt and Finn and scream - </span>
  <em>
    <span>GO TALK TO THEM! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If only. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only he’d been a stronger person. If only his depression hadn’t been a deep pit of angry blackness that had swallowed him whole. If only he hadn’t relied so much on Az. If only he’d accepted Finn’s offers of friendship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, where would he even be right now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shivering slightly at that thought, Dave glanced down at his phone - nothing from Finn or Kurt. Which meant that Kurt was trapped in the copper piping section with his dad and Finn was probably raiding Kurt’s secret candy stash. Something only Dave knew happened - mainly because he’d caught Finn red-handed one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forcing himself to stop thinking about all of his million regrets, Dave threw some more popcorn into his mouth and turned his attention back to the TV - determined to just enjoy himself tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overtop of the lightsaber fight - which was still going on - Dave thought he heard a car door slam, but it could’ve also been the sound of phaser fire on the TV...actually, wait. Where had the troopers come from? Shit! Now, he needed to rewatch the whole episode! He’d missed too much because of Kurt and Finn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling quietly, he grabbed the remote and rewound to Ashoka decapitating all the droids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just starting to get back into the flow of the show when a quiet and tired voice from the doorway broke through the din - “Hey kid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave’s entire body twisted itself towards the doorway. A massive grin came over his face at the sight of his dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad looked tired - but really happy. He was wearing the leather jacket that Dave had made him take at the last second, a dark grey button-up shirt that was strangely done up all the way to the collar, his very old and faded jeans that really added to the hipster vibe, and a pair of brown boots. His messenger bag was slung over one shoulder and he held a large plastic bag in his other hand. He was smiling widely at Dave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad!” Dave nearly flung the bowl of popcorn across the couch as he shoved the blanket off and jumped off the couch. “You’re home!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash, he was across the room, hugging his dad as tightly as he could. He had definitely missed his dad, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed him this much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard his dad’s bags fall to the ground as those strong arms wrapped themselves around him. Fuck! Hugging his dad again, even after two days, was amazing! He loved his dad’s hugs - they were just so comforting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god Dave! It is so good to see you! I missed you so much!” He could hear the smile on his dad’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was smiling so hard that his face hurt. He stepped back to take a closer look at his dad’s appearance. Well, shit, his dad kinda looked like a stud in that jacket. “You look great, dad! I told you that leather jacket was...wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in. What was on his dad’s neck… Oh my god. Dave went from smiling to radiating absolute and utter joy! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad! What the fuck is that!”  He almost yelled as he lifted a hand to turn his dad’s head slightly. He could practically feel his dad’s discomfort. The man started blushing so deeply that it looked like he’d turned into a tomato. But despite that, there was no way Dave was going to let this one go! His dad was in for it now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad… is that a hickey?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Paul</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul sat in the quiet dark of his car, staring at his house while anxiously prodding the bright purple hickey that marked his neck. He looked ridiculous and felt utterly stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire trip home had been filled with sly and knowing looks from strangers. The worst had been the woman sitting next to him on the plane. She’d stared at it for the entire flight, smirking. He’d nearly grabbed the intercom to yell, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes! I have a hickey! I am forty-four years old and I have a giant hickey on my face!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Instead, he’d just shoved his head into a book and tried to ignore the woman’s stares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell, even the kid in the McDonald’s drive-thru had stared at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he really didn’t care all that much about strangers. What he was worried about was how Dave would react. He really didn't want Dave to judge him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that Dave didn't often make fun of things - he was still too deeply rooted in his insecurities to really get on board with that, still too worried that if he joked around with people, they’d just throw their hands up and walk away. Perhaps it had more to do with Dave’s past behavior as a bully than anything else, but for the most part these days Dave was just an exceptionally respectable kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there were exceptions to that - Paul, for instance, was usually open season for Dave. He’d started noticing it over the last couple of months. Dave was slowly starting to find his groove again - smiling and opening himself up more. He was letting himself be a funny guy again. It was especially evident when they went for dinner at Kurt’s. There Dave joked around with Finn and Kurt, talked animatedly with Burt and Carole and, of course, was always ready with a snarky comment about his poor old dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Paul had a very good idea of what Dave’s reaction to the hickey was going to be. And, honestly, he didn’t want Dave making fun of it, mostly because he liked it. He liked the hickey! As incredibly embarrassing as it was, he really liked it because she had given it to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, he felt like a horny teenager every time he looked at it. But he also felt proud! Because it let him remember Michelle straddling his hips while her hot wet mouth marked him so wantonly. Lord, it was enough to nearly make him turn around and drive back to that airport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dave was only one worry. How would he explain it to Burt? Who would make fun of him far worse than Dave! Or the people at the firm? Who all assumed he was going to DC for a job interview and would now start assuming he had a secret lover. He was Paul Karofsky - he never did things like this! He was never this brash or reckless. He felt like a completely different person! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing he could be thankful for, at least, was that no one could see the other marks! He poked his left pec, grunting as a warm rush of pain spread out from the bite mark there. Or the torrent of scratch marks across his broad back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, dumbfounded at his own brazenness. But deep in his stomach, he could feel the pull of desire for her. He missed her - he wanted to be in her arms right now. Wanted to be back in her bedroom surrounded by the smell of honeysuckle and lemon. Wanted to be twisted up in her bedsheets while they moved together to find that perfect rhythm to climax together.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing at the very visceral memory of Michelle’s moans, he tried to get himself back into the headspace of being </span>
  <em>
    <span>dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not Paul - the man who felt like he’d fucking invented sex. He needed to push all those memories from the last twenty-four hours with Michelle out of his head and focus on being home. Being a dad to his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to go inside and hug his son! He was about to listen to his son tell him about his day. And he was about to tell Dave all about his adventures - well, the PG-13 version anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he could talk to his son and tell him everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking up his phone from the passenger seat, he sent a quick text - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Beautiful. I made it home in one piece. Got a lot of looks thanks to my little badge of honor though. Hope you’re having a good night.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Climbing out of the car, he grabbed his suitcase and other bags from the trunk. Then he walked into his house, only to be greeted by the sound of lightsabers battling it out from the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, he stepped into the living room doorway and smiled as he took in his son. Dave was curled up on the couch, a grey blanket tucked around his legs and a large bowl of popcorn in his lap. He hadn't noticed Paul yet, his eyes were glued to the tv screen - watching an episode of that Clone Wars show. He was wearing a tank top and he had this small content smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kid,” Paul said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave’s head jolted in his direction, his face breaking out into a huge grin. “Dad!” He put the popcorn on the other side of the couch and lept-up. “You’re home!” He came rushing towards the doorway, throwing his arms around Paul and hugging him tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul dropped his bags and hugged Dave right back. “Oh, god Dave! It is so good to see you! I missed you so much!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave stepped back, his face beaming. “You look great, dad! I told you that leather jacket was...wait!” Dave was no longer smiling, he was beaming - eyes wide in surprise and joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uh oh. Paul felt himself blushing hotly under his son’s gaze. And when Dave reached out, he let his head be turned slightly to give Dave an even better view of the very prominent hickey on his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad… is that a hickey!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul squirmed out of Dave’s grasp, blushing hard in embarrassment. Turning his burning face away, he grabbed his bags and started towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a beer! Wanna come with me! I can tell you all about DC!” Suddenly, he felt so awkward and embarrassed. He felt so goddamn foolish.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave followed, laughing. “Oh my god! You have a hickey!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the kitchen, Paul dropped his bags next to the kitchen table and pulled off his jacket. He dropped it over the back of one of the chairs and nearly sprinted to the fridge. His hands were shaking as he grabbed a bottle of beer. He hugged himself as his embarrassment started to shift towards humiliation under his son’s gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching him. The smile on his face slowly faded to a look of concern and worry. “Dad? Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed and sagged slightly. “Yeah, kid. I’m okay. Look, I have a hickey, okay? There, end of story. Can we just not mention it - I’m rather embarrassed.” God, he felt so dumb, ten minutes ago the damn thing had made him so proud, but now he just felt stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Dave looked confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why what? Why do I have a hickey? I think at your age, you’d know the mechanics of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, dad. Why are you embarrassed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m a forty-four-year-old man with a hickey!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? I think it’s awesome!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave.” Paul rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad’s a stud! Come on! There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Paul started, staring at his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, really! Dad, this is the coolest thing you’ve ever done! I’m like, weirdly proud.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, as he’d experienced a million times now, Dave had surprised him. Paul felt himself start to relax, a small smile on his face. “So what, you’re not going to make fun of me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I’m certainly going to make fun of you - you have a hickey, dad. But that doesn’t mean I’m not fucking proud of you! My dad’s like a sex god or something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s entire face burst into flames and he turned back to the fridge, trying hard not to think about some of the things he’d done earlier today. He grabbed a second beer out of the fridge and held it out to Dave. “Okay. Two things, one you’re never allowed to use those words about me again. And two, here - you deserve a beer. Just one, so it doesn’t fuck with your meds. Now sit down and I’ll tell you about my trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave beamed and took the beer. “Can I hear about how you got your hickey?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Sit. Beer. Listen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, hickey man.” Dave sat down at the table, leaning forward with bright eyes, and sipped his beer. He looked entirely too pleased right now. And Paul knew, without a doubt, that Kurt - and Burt - would know all about Paul’s hickey before the night was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sat down, shaking his head. “Where’s Kurt? I expected to find him here - since you had the house to yourself tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, his dad - you know the dad without a hickey - wanted to have a father-son bonding night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave rolled his eyes. “Fine! But I get to make fun of it three more times tonight - I mean, come on, dad! You came home with a hickey on your neck! I’m totally within my rights to make fun of you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine - three more times! And then you stop - or I throw out all the gifts I got you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’d be fine with that. The hickey is a gift enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave. You’re a jerk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try.” Dave smiled, but slowly the smile dissolved into a look of the utmost seriousness. He reached out and grabbed his dad’s hand. “But seriously, dad, was she nice?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul took a drink of his beer, eyeing his son over the rim of his bottle. Dave had this look of complete earnestness. He wasn’t asking to make fun - no, he actually wanted to know. He nodded. And superimposed over the sight of his son, Paul saw Michelle as she’d been in the airport before he’d walked through security - her long hair tied back and her sweet, kind eyes looking at him with adoration. He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, Dave. She was really nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You deserve that. Now, give me my gifts and tell me about DC - you can omit hickey-gate if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s two!” Paul laughed as he opened up his suitcase and started pulling out the rather impressive horde of stuff for Dave. He held out the small pile, before picking up the White House gift shop bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, that was only one. I get two more.” Dave picked up the Star Wars art book and looked up at his dad, shocked, “Dad! You got me the Clone Wars art book! Holy crap! Thank you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem, kid. So… news on the whole job front.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Dave was unfolding the DC pride shirt, his eyes curious over the top of the shirt. ‘And?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they’re going to offer it to me..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Dad! That’s awesome!” Dave dropped the shirt and raced around the table, hugging Paul tightly. “I’m so happy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too kid. Me too.” Paul smiled into his son’s neck. And he was. He was so incredibly happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-/- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul watched Dave flip through a book on American LGBTQ history. He and Michelle had found it at the White House gift shop, and based on the thoughtful expression on his son’s face, it had been a good purchase. Dave furrowed his brow - whatever he was reading was troubling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not entirely wanting to disturb Dave’s thought process, Paul fiddled with his beer bottle. With his other hand, he brushed his neck again, which made him wonder what Michelle was doing. He knew it was time for him and Dave to have a serious talk, but he strangely wished she was here to hold his hand through it. A very odd thing to think about a person he’d known for only twenty-four hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But regardless, he needed to just lay it all out on the line. God, please let Dave understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave looked up, closing the book. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, uh, I know that we don’t get to just chill out together like this often…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so, if you’re really going to become a forty-four-year-old hipster, you need to not use phrases like ‘chill out together.’ Although, the hickey is helping with that image. By the way, I think we should name it...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave just smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, look, Dave, I don’t want to bring you down, but I think...uh, I’d like to tell you about what happened with Azimio, if you want to hear it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave nodded, pushing the book to the side. “I do, dad. I really do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but look - I did some stuff that I’m not proud of, okay? So, can you please not judge me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t judge you when you walked in here with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>giant </span>
  </em>
  <span>hickey on your neck, so I promise I won’t judge when you tell me what you did to Az.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s three…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope - that time I was being supportive, so I get to tease you once more!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, look I just want you to remember, this was just after everything happened in February and I was… angry and really scared. And, well Az really disappointed me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, it’s okay. Just tell me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sighed and looked down at his hands. He took a deep breath - fortifying himself. Then he started… </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title - Doom &amp; Gloom by the Rolling Stones (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPFGWVKXxm0)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. What do I do when lightning strikes me? (or, Paul vs Azimio)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Homophobic Language, references to suicide, violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>{February 2012 - 2 Days Post Suicide Watch} </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul sat in his car staring out the driver’s side window, desperately trying to quell the nausea and exhaustion that raged through his body. He was parked across the street from a small unassuming bungalow - the Adams’ house. It was an adorable little house, but Paul wasn’t actually seeing it. No, right now he was seeing his son’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop seeing his son’s ruined and sobbing face as he finally explained what had happened with Azimio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken three days. Three days after Paul had cut Dave down from that beam in his closet, Dave finally felt ready to talk about it. Not the actions of the homophobic pieces of shit at Thurston, or the hateful Facebook messages and text messages… no, those Dave had talked about almost immediately. This was a much deeper pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took three days for Dave to finally talk about what that utterly pathetic, bigoted, two-faced little fucktard of an ex-best friend had said. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I shouldn’t have called him again, dad. I shouldn’t have done that - not after that first phone call!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What happened Dave? It’s okay - just tell me what happened.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He said...he said...he wouldn’t help me! He said he wanted nothing to do with me! He said that maybe they were right. Dad! He...he agreed with them! I think he wanted me to try and hurt myself!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wall of sound that had roared in Paul’s head had been huge. It had overwhelmed everything. Overwhelmed the ability to move or think or even breathe. All Paul had been able to do was sit there silently - holding Dave as he cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, as Dave walked down the hospital hallway accompanied by a nurse towards his afternoon therapy appointment, engulfed in an oversized hospital gown and starchy housecoat, Paul had silently raged. The size and strength of his anger felt overwhelming. Azimio had betrayed Dave - he’d committed a grievous sin. The first rejection had been bad enough - but if Az had encouraged Dave to hurt himself, then he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Dave had disappeared into the elevator, Paul had been ready to go tear the boy apart, but cooler heads prevailed. Burt, who had sat silently next to Paul while Dave had talked, gripped his knee and spoke in a firm, commanding tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Listen to me! You need to take a breath right now - or take a walk, Paul. Going over there and beating Azimio to a pulp won’t do anything. It won’t help Dave and it won’t make the situation any better. It’ll put him in even more of a position of power over Dave. You need to be smart about this.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Paul had swallowed his rage. He bit back the red sea of anger and tried to be smart about it. As with Thruston and Nick Thompson, Paul started to plan. He needed ammunition - needed to make sure that, if needed, he had a suitable punishment ready to dole out. So, he built a rock-solid case against Azimio Adams - something he would use only if Az proved too difficult to handle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it hurt so much to do this. To have to think about Az this way. To think this way about a boy that Paul considered his second son. To look so deeply at him - to look beyond his goofy foolishness and see the darkness beneath. Az had been a part of their family - it had always been that way. But now… well now, he just wasn’t sure what Az was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azimio, his mother Samantha, and sister Natasha had moved to Lima around the same time as Paul, Linda, and Dave. The two boys had met in preschool and became best friends almost overnight. Something Paul had been very pleased over, especially given how much of a loner Dave could be. Linda, however, had reservations about Azimio’s “urban” influence on David - a nonsensical notion that Paul had fought against from the get-go. In fact, it had been one of their first really big fights, but Paul had prevailed and the friendship between the two boys had flourished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, that friendship lay in tatters and all because Azimio had allowed himself to find greater pleasure in being Dave’s tormentor than a savior. Paul shook his head as he stared at the Adams’ bungalow, whispering softly under his breath, “If only you’d helped when he asked for it. If only you’d been a better person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing down at the sheet of paper on his lap, a bubble of anxiety bloomed in his stomach. This was a dirty play - even for him. Even after everything else he’d done, this had the potential to cause so much damage. God, he hoped he wouldn't have to even think about making this play. He prayed he wouldn’t need to pull out this sheet of paper With a mild groan, he slipped the paper into his coat pocket and checked the time. He’d just come from McKinley - where unique assurances had been made for Dave’s safety, including some about the very young man he was about to face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the last step - after dealing with Az, he could go back and prepare his son to come home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got out of the car and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to hurt Azimio - he loved the kid - but hurting Dave wasn’t going to stand. He needed to give Azimio the chance to explain himself - he was willing to do that. But causing Dave pain, well Az needed to know that wouldn’t stand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked slowly across the street. He was in no hurry, hell, he wasn’t sure he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurry in his current state of exhaustion. But he gave the impression of a guy taking a walk across the street - going to speak to a friend and her son. If Az was watching, he didn’t want the kid to get freaked out or anything. No, he actually did want them to have a civil conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, the image of pinning the shithead to a wall was very appealing. Yeah, Paul figured, that would make this whole experience burn a little brighter - finally having the chance to take out his anger on someone. So far, Paul had managed to hold back and stop himself from erupting. Fuck, he’d even managed to stop himself from utterly destroying Nick Thompson or his parents. And he’d held back when faced with that stupid principal at Thurston. And given everything he’d found out about what had happened to Dave, it was a minor miracle that he’d somehow managed not to decapitate a few people. But his resolve was wavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped at the bottom of the walkway - staring at the garden and house in front of him. The house was a small brick bungalow with a white trim and bright red flower boxes hanging in front of each window. Dave and Az had painted those flower boxes last spring, they ended up covered in paint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The garden, winterized now, was normally filled with dozens of flowering plants - everything from rose bushes to hydrangeas, and a miniature Japanese Maple tree. It was the garden of someone who cared deeply for their home and found great pleasure in their garden. Paul appreciated that - he also liked his garden. It gave him time to think - time to relax. Although, as of late, he had let it go to seed. Perhaps, when all this was over, he and Dave could bring their garden back to life. It would give them some time to reconnect outside of the horrors of the past week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Starting up the walkway, Paul remembered the innumerable times he had come here. For birthday parties, dinners, lunches, playdates, even that horrible time when Az had fallen off his bike and broken his leg. He remembered how he and Dave had brought home a quiet and tearful twelve-year-old boy, one who had leaned so heavily on Dave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stepped up to the front door, he muttered, “Where were you when Dave needed someone to lean on, Azimio? Where were you?” Then he rang the doorbell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard movement on the other side of the door and wondered who he would face first today - the mother or the son? And would the anger of one equal the other - or was Samantha even aware of her son’s hatred? Of what he had done? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened to the short and slight figure of Samantha Adams. The moment she saw him, her face morphed into a look of such sadness that it rocked Paul to his core. No. She had no clue about her son. Fuck, that would make this harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul! Oh my god! I wasn’t sure how long I should wait to call or if you just wanted to be with Dave right now. But - oh god, Paul! This is all so horrible! I’m so very sorry. Is he doing okay? What can I do!?” Her grief and concern washed over him and he stared at her for a moment - unsure of how to answer any of these questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he even begin to tell this woman - who loved Dave so deeply - that her son had been one of those who had persecuted Dave. How the hell was he supposed to break her world apart like that? This woman wasn’t Nick Thompson's parents - this woman was a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Samantha. I’m sorry for disturbing you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disturb me? What on earth! Paul! You never need to apologize to come to my door! Come inside - what can I do? Have they taken him off suicide watch? I’m sure Az would love to come visit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s heart broke as he heard that. God, she had no idea! No idea at all. This was going to ruin her. He sighed heavily - his body felt like it was going to fall down at any moment. He felt like he’d been engaged in trench warfare for years - all he wanted to do was rest. But there was still so much yet to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Samantha, I think we should sit down - there're some things we need to talk about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him with a look of confusion in her eyes and her lips pursed - was she putting two and two together. Perhaps Az had refused to talk about Dave. Or had he said something that she’d tried to ignore. Slowly, she nodded and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he followed her, he marveled at how tidy and neat the front hallway was - everything was in its place. Barely a speck of dust to be found anywhere. The front hallway was immaculate, which he found so difficult to achieve as a single parent. Well, until he’d decided to hire a cleaning service. Paul had been too wrapped up in work and Dave had been too deep in his personal demons to actually do anything even remotely close to housework. So, how Samantha Adams always managed to keep her house tidy, plus excel at her career as an accountant just struck him as a huge mystery. Especially as the mother of two teenagers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Samantha led him into the kitchen - a bright room that was done up in light yellows and bright whites. Sitting at the large table was Natasha, eating a bowl of cereal. She jumped up when Paul walked in, her long hair swirling around her face - “Mr. Karofsky!” Then she raced to hug him, her voice becoming tearful and almost shrill. “I’m so sorry! Is Dave okay?! I wanted to go see him - I was so scared for him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugged her and patted her back while murmuring reassurances. How could neither of them know! How could they not realize what they were living with? Az had deceived both his mother and younger sister. He wanted to scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t one of them answer the phone that day!? Why couldn’t they have been the ones Dave reached out to - they would have come immediately! Why the fuck did Az have to disappoint him so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let Natasha go, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. Then turned back to Samantha. His voice was thick and sad, “Dave is… struggling. I...I can’t even begin to explain how he feels. But he’s broken right now. Those monsters broke my son.” He sighed and closed his eyes - it was a horrible idea, coming here. These people were his friends - what her son did to Dave shouldn’t negate that, but still Az...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a soft hand rubbing his arm and Samantha’s quiet voice saying, “God Paul, I’m so sorry. Tell us how we can help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes - they were so raw and tired - and looked into Samantha’s sympathetic face. “We need to talk about A…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma? Who was at the door?” The voice was so familiar - it was a voice Paul had heard a million times in his house. It was a voice he recognized as ringing with laughter at some joke Dave had told, or raging in anger over some mistake in a video game, or hushed with seriousness as he and Dave discussed something that felt weighted with great importance. And now, despite the curiosity and innocence in its tone, all Paul could hear was cockiness and hate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around to see the hulking form of his son’s ex-best friend standing in the kitchen doorway. Az had always been a big kid - bordering on obese - and today, that weight was obvious. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt with the picture of some rap artist that Paul detested and a pair of basketball shorts. His bald head was shiny and he still looked a little sleepy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all of a second for the anger to surge - just seeing Az brought back the awful images. Dave struggling against the belt. Dave’s horrific choking noises. Dave’s tear-streaked face turning a dark purple. The look on Dave’s face as he sadly recounted everything - every fucking thing - that had been doing to him, including those done by this boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as Azimio’s eyes widened in shock. And just like that, the rage overwhelmed him - it filled him up so fast and so violently that he barely had time to process it. Oh, yes, he thought, as that anger finally flooded his brain, it had been a big mistake to come here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, before he even realized he was moving, he let out a roar and leaped forward, slamming Azimio Adams against the wall with such force that the boy’s head left a dent in the wall. He barely registered the picture frames clattering to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking piece of homophobic garbage!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looked terrified. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of Paul’s fury, he wondered what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked like right now. Was his face flushed? Were his teeth bared? Was there murder in his eyes? What exactly was terrifying this boy? Was it the insurmountable strength of Paul’s rage? Or was the inescapable realization that actions had consequences?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Samantha scream, “Paul!” But he didn’t care - he only had eyes for this...child in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t touch Nick - because he wanted that to be a clean case. He wanted nothing tainting that - it had to be pristine to allow Tony to work his magic. And he couldn’t touch those awful school administrators at Thurston, despite using the law to do his work for him. And all the others - all those names on Dave’s Facebook - they weren’t touchable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Az could be touched. He could be touched so easily, because of the nature of his relationship with Dave. It was so easy to touch him. So easy to let his anger boil over and scorch Az. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his forearm against Az’s throat - eyes narrowing - as he leaned in a little further, pressing a little harder. “What do you have to say for yourself, fucker, huh? What do you have to say!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Samantha yanking on his arm, trying to pry him off her son. He shook her off and pressed his arm even harder against Az’s windpipe - the boy’s eyes bulged and he made this loud choking noise, hands scrambling to push Paul off of him. He looked absolutely terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does this feel, Az? How does this make you feel? Because this is what my David felt! Think about that! He couldn’t breathe either - he was dying, just like this! No air, Az! Does it hurt? I know it does! He told me how much it hurts not to be able to breathe!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Az’s mouth was working - his fingernails scratching hard at Paul’s coat. Paul started to register the sound of Samantha and Natasha screaming and pulling at him. And Az managed to choke out a single strangled, “Please!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul roared in fury. Infuriated that this boy should hope for mercy. How dare he think that Paul would show mercy when none had been shown to Dave! Paul pressed harder and Az’s legs started kicking - tears flooding down his face, as he made hard sobbing noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, with another scream, Paul relented. Twisting his hands in Az’s shirt and yanking forward, he threw Az across the kitchen. The large boy slammed into the counter and crumbled into a heap on the floor. But Paul wasn’t done yet. He moved so fast he was practically a blur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heaving Az up, Paul shoved his face as close to the boy’s as he could. He could smell Az’s sweat and rotten cheeto laden breath - it revolted him. Az was almost sobbing. “Please Mr. K. Please!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what!? You fucking bigot! Tell me! BEG FOR IT AZ!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop please! PLEASE!” Az pushed weakly at Paul, his feet scrambling backward trying to get away. Paul let go and Az stumbled back, slamming against the dishwasher with a loud bang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Paul just leaned in, screaming now, “Did he ask you to stop when you told him to die, Az? Did he beg you not to say that?” Paul’s anger had reached a crescendo, he would never be this angry again - it would all burn up over this child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never...I never…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU DID!” Paul leaped forward again, grabbing Az’s shirt. “You did! He told me! He told me what you did! How could you do that!? How could you say that!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, as though it had been there boiling underneath all this time, Az’s own anger surged upwards and collided with Paul’s in a violent explosion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Az, realizing that he was an eighteen-year-old football player with a significant amount of strength in his body, shoved Paul as hard as he could and leaped to his feet. They stood toe to toe, with Az glaring at Paul - proud and defiant. “BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKNG FAGGOT!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As though slapped, Paul stumbled backward, eyes growing huge at Az’s disgusting words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t register Samantha’s cry, nor Nathasha’s scream. All he heard, over and over, were those words. Words spoken by his son's best friend. His son - who was sitting in a hospital room, unable to stop crying. His son who had been persecuted and hated and driven to try and kill himself. His son did not deserve this. His son didn’t deserve this hate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reacted. He reacted to Az’s hate. And, without even realizing what he was doing, he just punched Az right in the face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy flew backward, slamming into the counter, bouncing off of it, and landing on the floor again with a loud cry of pain. Paul was no longer even present, no longer aware of what he was doing. He was no longer really thinking, he was just reacting. He stalked forward, looking very much like a large menacing predator, bearing down on his prey. He looked so angry that Azimio actually started scrambling to get under the table, to get away. A babble of words spilling from his lips. But Paul didn’t care. He didn’t care what Az was saying and he didn’t care where Az was going to try and hide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if in a daze of anger, Paul just reached out and grabbed a chair, tossing it aside. He shoved the table away and reached for Az. He knew he would tear this house apart if he had to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the back of Az’s shirt collar and yanked back. The sound of fabric ripping was so loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. The only other sounds were Samantha and Natasha’s sobs, and now the sound of Az’s strangled chokes as Paul yanked him backward by the collar of his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul gripped Az’s arm and heaved him back, he yanked so hard the boy almost flew across the room. Az landed face-first onto the kitchen floor, leaving a long smear of blood on the linoleum. He rolled over and stared up at Paul’s hulking figure - his face was a mixture of shock and contempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up you vile piece of shit.” Paul’s voice no longer sounded like him - it was a different version of him. A version of him that had lost faith in a boy he’d once loved a great deal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Az slowly pushed himself off the floor, standing and staring defiantly ahead of him. A mixture of anger, revulsion, and hate wafted off him like a putrid stink. It was obvious that he was no longer afraid, and Paul knew he was in for one hell of a fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The urge to spit in Az’s face was intense. But there was a part of him, the part that had helped Az and Dave build a treehouse one summer or had taken the boys camping and fishing that pushed back. Pushed him to give the boy one last chance. He stepped even closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fourteen years! You’ve been his friend for fourteen years! And that’s what it all comes down to, huh Az? That’s he’s gay? All the damn sleepovers? All the bike rides? All the football games? All the nights you were at my house until three in the morning playing video games? All the car rides? All the support he’s given you! All of it - you don’t give a damn about any of it?! The moment he said he was gay, all of that was became garbage!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Az stared at him, silently as blood leaked slowly from his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to answer you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you do, you little shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! You’re not my father! You just some fag’s dad!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His anger roared again, and he shoved that other part of him firmly away. All he wanted to do was bust this shit’s face wide open. Paul raised his fist, but Samantha’s scream, “Paul please! Don’t!” halted his punch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regarded the boy coldly and said icily, “But you do have to answer him! He called you for help! He begged you for help - twice! And you turned away! Then you told him to kill himself - you were his best…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I never said that!” Az suddenly looked panicked and horrified. - the defiant anger draining from his face. “I never!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking liar! He said you told him that you thought they were right...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! That’s not what I… No! Mr. K. I swear - oh god, I swear, I never meant it like that!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar.” Paul spat. His disappointment was shifting towards disgust for this child. “Then explain it to me, Az! Tell me what you meant, Az? Because I’ve done a lot worse this week than punch a teenager, prove to me that I don’t need to do worse! What did you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that! I don’t want anything to do with that fag, but I…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Azimio! Stop that language!” Samantha screamed, her hand flying out and slapping him hard across the face. Paul hadn’t even noticed her coming up next to him. “You stop that, right now! This is David you’re talking about!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah and Dave’s a damn fag mom!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had had enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough!” He backhanded Azimio across the face, the boy slumped against the counter, a trickle of blood slipping out from the corner of his mouth. He watched Paul with scared eyes - perhaps he was discovering that Paul’s rage was a lot bigger than his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s hand slipped inside his coat pocket and fingered the sheet of paper. God, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to hurt the boy like this… but those words… Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. “You were like a son to me, Azimio! You… I love… god, I am so disappointed in you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he opened his eyes and saw the wave of hurt that came over Az’s eyes. He pulled the sheet of paper out of his pocket. Damn this child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. K, I…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I don’t care! Just stop, Az.” He could hear Natasha crying somewhere behind them, and he was aware of Samantha watching him. He held up the paper but didn’t unfold it. “Az, do you know what Dave told me last month?” He felt the tears pooling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Az shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me about your football scholarship to OSU, early acceptance, and everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. K?” Az sounded very scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found this on the internet….” His voice shook. “... did you know that scholarship recipients have to act in accordance with a certain code of conduct or risk having their funding revoked. And I looked into what that code of conduct includes…it prohibits homophobic acts or remarks made against another student, person, or group.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused and licked his lips, staring right into Az’s scared eyes. Swallowing, he continued, “What do you think, Az? Was your behavior unbecoming?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy suddenly looked terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also have the name and numbers of the football coaching team at OSU, as well as the admissions office, maybe I should give them a call and find out what they think about your behavior towards Dave last week? Maybe they’d have a few thoughts on the matter? I bet we could have a really good conversation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. K… that’s not…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair? Shall we have a conversation about fairness, Az?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul!” Samantha stepped in front of him, her face was wet with tears, but he could see a shield of motherly protectiveness falling over her. “That’s my son’s future you’re talking about. I won’t let you play with that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned sadly at Samantha. “I’m sorry, Sam, but your son played with my David’s life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. K...I...please don’t! Please...I’m begging you! That scholarship, it’s all I have!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul fought through his growing sense of self-revulsion, “And my son is all I have, Azimio. You turned your back on him! He begged you to help him! And you pushed him towards suicide just as much as any of those assholes at Thruston did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No! I swear! I didn’t - please Mr. K. I’m sorry. Okay...I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to him. I’ll go to the hospital right now! Please! I’ll protect him! I’ll learn how to be better! Please! Whatever you want! But don’t take my scholarship away!” Az’s defiance melted away and all at once he was like a small child - terrified and vulnerable. He looked suddenly so small and scared. Tears were starting to form in his eyes. And much like Nick Thompson, Azimio realized that there were consequences to his actions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul slipped the offensive sheet of paper back into his pocket. “You betrayed him. He trusted you and needed you and you betrayed him. And that betrayal almost stole his life! You are a bigot and a hateful person, Azimio. You were his brother! And… I am so disappointed in you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Az was just shaking, eyes wide with fear. “No no no no no. I didn’t I didn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul! Stop! I won’t let you do that!” Samantha had drawn herself up to her full height. He was sure that there was no way he’d win in a fight against her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I won’t let your son hurt my boy again. I want him to understand that what he did was wrong - that his small-minded little beliefs are wrong!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he will, Paul! He will! But, please don’t do this. I’ll make him understand. God, Paul, please! You know this is his only chance! I can’t afford that tuition on my own! Paul - for god’s sake!” Samantha was screaming now, her hand poised in the air to strike him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul just stared at Azimio. The boy was visibly shaking and staring at the floor - his face was bloody and tear-stained, with snot running out of his nose. “Azimio, look at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looked up - locking eyes with Paul. “Yes sir.” He sounded so weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to stay away from Dave...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and listen to me. You are to stay away from Dave - you are not to talk to him, go near him - hell, you shouldn’t even be looking at him. He’s coming back to McKinley - I’ve arranged for him to be safe there, but I will be keeping my eyes on him. So, you are to leave him alone - completely. Understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do that and I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the agreement I’m offering. You stay away from my boy, and I will make sure you get to Ohio State in September. But if you go near Dave, if you do anything to hurt him, I will come down on you like a hurricane. Do you get me, son?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Yes, sir!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Paul looked around the kitchen - he frowned at the sight of the hole where he’d slammed Az against the wall. “Samantha, I’m sorry about that wall - when you get it fixed, send me the bill.” It felt so anti-climatic, but perhaps that was best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was looking at him like he was a demon, which hurt his heart. Her voice had lost its friendly tone, “Thank you, Paul. And I’ll see that Az gets the… the support he needs. I am so sorry about Dave. Honestly. But, if you go after my son's future, you’ll be in for a hell of a fight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d expect it. Just...just stick to the agreement.” He turned and started out of the kitchen. He was stopped by Az’s tearful voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. K.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly turned around to face Az’s sad eyes. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never meant it like that… I never wanted him to...do that. I think I just wanted him to not be in my life… But I swear, I would never tell Dave to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s head sagged forward. His eyes shut. He was so tired and he’d finally crossed a line. He could feel the burn of tears. He opened his eyes, and the image of Azimo swam in front of him - he was crying. When he spoke, his voice sounded so forlorn that he saw the utter horror on the Adams’ faces. “B... Be…” A sob broke out, and he had to stop, body shaking as he regained control of himself. “Be that as it may, Az. You’ve disappointed me so much. I expected so much more from you - I expected you to be his friend. Friends don’t do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, pressing his hand to his wet face, trembling. “I almost lost my son. He put a belt around his neck and tried to hang himself - my son almost died, Az. And regardless of what you said or didn’t say, he… asked for help and you didn’t give it to him. You need to grow up, Azimio. Just fucking grow up.” He looked back up at the boy and his mother, who regarded his pain with hurt in their eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul…” Samantha said, reaching out as her face changed again to one of worry and affection. “Come sit down, please…” He was confused by her sympathy, after what he’d just threatened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I need to go. He needs me. I can’t...I’m sorry.” His guilt and shame drove him away from them. Then, before he collapsed on their floor, he walked quickly out of the house, nearly running. Behind him, he heard Samantha call out, “Paul, wait!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaped into his car. Not bothering with his seatbelt, he just started to drive. His breathing was funny - coming in heaves. After a block, he had to pull over as the sobs finally overtook him. His sobs escalated in intensity and he started slamming his hands against the steering wheel - screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an asshole! I’m an asshole!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was wrong with him? How could he have done that!? He’d threatened Azimio’s only chance at escaping this fucking town! He knew Samantha and her family had faced enough in this godforsaken place! He’d sat with her on enough nights, talking about the racism and underlying hate that proliferated this fucking place. And he’d just contributed to it! He’d been her confidant! Her friend! And he’d thrown it all back in their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” He leaned forward until his head hit the steering wheel, his sobs coming harder and harder. “I’m a monster…” He whispered to the empty car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With shaking hands, he pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket. Smoothing it out on his knee and staring at the words scrawled across the top. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shopping List. (Don’t forget eggs!) </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And, as a new volley of sobs racked his body, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the floor of the car. He’d finally crossed the line - he’d tried so hard not to, but Azimio had pushed him right over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul hugged the steering wheel, pressing his face to the soft leather, and sobbed. He sobbed for his son, for himself, for Azimio and his family… he sobbed because he was so tired of hurting. He sobbed for all that he had lost in the face of all that hurt that cascaded down around him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so tired of all the all fucking hurt in this world. </span>
</p><hr/><h3>
  <b>{May 2012}</b>
</h3><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that’s pretty much it…” Paul sighed, running a fingernail across the label of his beer bottle, picking away flecks of ink. He looked up to meet his son’s incredulous stare. It felt like Dave hadn’t moved or breathed once while he talked.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Dave. I know.” Paul felt the cold burn of shame color his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You - actually...Dad. Fuck! You know how hard he worked for that scholarship!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave! Please! I...I know! And you need to know I would never, ever, do what I threatened to do! I just...I needed to protect you! I was going mad those first days - I was so angry. I felt...” He just shook his head and stared down at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know dad. I know! I get it - but to threaten his scholarship like that! Dad, that’s insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul sat there, he ghosted his fingers across the surface of his phone. Closing his eyes, he tried to find the right words to explain to Dave what those days had been like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave - I know you were right in it. I know you were struggling with being on suicide watch and fighting for your sanity, but I was drowning. I felt like I was losing you - like I was about to completely lose you. And I just wanted to make sure you were safe - and Az, he wasn’t safe. I know I crossed a line. And I know I probably cost myself a friend in Samantha and irreparably damaged Az’s opinion of me - not that I have the highest opinion of him, but I...I needed to make sure you were safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul fell silent for a moment, his eyes burning as he remembered the shame and horror he’d felt that day. The first sob wracked his entire body, and his hands were shaking as he pressed his face into them. His voice sounded wrecked as he quietly sobbed, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Dave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the scrape of a chair and then two warm arms wrapped themselves around him, tugging him sideways. He let himself fall against his son, “It’s okay, dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul let himself cry. He sat there in his son’s arms and let himself cry. Sometimes it didn't feel like it would ever be okay again. How was it possible that with everything swirling around him, Dave was strong enough to fucking support his dad. How had he lucked out this much to have Dave as a son? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his face into Dave’s shirt and cried. For the first time since February, Paul cried desperately against his son. It felt like every emotion he’d ever had was spilling out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, with a cough, Paul sat back up and turned towards Dave. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, shaking slightly. “T-Thank you, Dave.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave just sat there, his tearful eyes focused on the table in front of them. He looked so sad, but obviously, something was happening in his head. Finally, after a very long beat of silence, he said quietly, “Dad - I need you to promise me something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Already knowing what was coming, Paul muttered, “Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t do it. After Az showed up on Monday - I need to know you won’t do it. Please don’t take that scholarship away from him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David! I might dislike him immeasurably, but I’m not going to ruin the boy’s life! I’ve already ruined one boy’s life… Az, for whatever his faults, he doesn’t deserve that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise. But I also need to know what he was doing on Monday. What he was thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave, again, went silent and sat there staring at the table. Slowly he lifted his head and locked eyes with Paul, “And what if you don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What? Dave…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just listen for a second, dad. You’ve already put the fear of god in him - what if we let it play out? What if you just ignore it? I promise to tell you if he tries anything again, but if we scare him or if he thinks you might do something, he could go off the rails. Just let him be, dad. This one time - do nothing.” Dave made this gesture that was utterly unfamiliar to him - fluttering his fingers in the air. Paul wondered if this was something he’d picked up from Kurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at his son’s earnest eyes. Trying to see the rationale behind this idea. And, if he was being honest, there were some. Azimio knew the consequences and yet he’d stepped up to defend Dave and Kurt. He sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave it alone - for now! But if he tries anything else - and I mean that! He’s getting a phone call.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you promise that you won’t go after his scholarship? Because as much as he hurt me, dad, he deserves a chance too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded. “I promise.” And he meant it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave sighed and visibly relaxed. “Okay. But thank you for telling me. Thank you for protecting me, dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome, kid.” But as he said it, he couldn’t help but wonder how much he deserved that thanks at times. He sank back against his chair, taking a deep breath. “I felt so awful that day, Dave - I still do. I was such a mess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really punch him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul glanced at Dave, shaking his head. “Don’t focus on my violent tendencies, Dave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!? I just wish I could’ve seen that! I bet it was awesome - he totally deserved it. I feel bad for his mom and Nat though, I miss them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded. “I miss them too. I hate that I cost myself that friendship.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t - Az did that. The way he acted, that’s what made this happen - not you, dad. All you did was try to look after me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I ever want to do, Dave. Honestly, everything I’ve done and everything I’m doing is to protect you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face, “Well, then, maybe after all that, you kinda deserved your pal, Mr. Hickey there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s three, kid…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title from: Elton John, Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3nScN89Klo)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. This thing called love, I must get round to it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>{Dave}</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Dave listened to the silence on the other end of the phone and for half a second he worried that Kurt had actually fallen asleep on him or hung up or something. Then, almost breathlessly, he heard, “Wow.” </p><p>Ah, so his boyfriend had just been stunned into silence. Dave nodded to his dark bedroom and sighed, “Yeah... “ He’d expected Kurt to be surprised at hearing what his dad had done with Az, so he sat quietly and let the silence stretch between them. </p><p>Finally, after what felt like a decade or more, Kurt whispered, “I can’t believe your dad did that!” </p><p>Dave hummed a reply, not entirely sure what he wanted to say. He was, quite honestly, rather tired of talking about Azimio. Fiddling with a loose thread on his comforter, Dave muttered, “Yeah, neither can I!” Sighing, he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. </p><p>The room was completely dark, except for his small bedside lamp which threw just enough light to illuminate the mobile above his bed. He stared up at it and the slightly sinister shadows it seemed to cast. It wasn’t often that he disliked his room - he’d made peace with it and what it represented months ago, but tonight, for some reason, he really needed Kurt’s voice to anchor him to the moment. He held his breath and waited for Kurt to talk again. </p><p>Kurt’s voice practically floated in the darkness. “I also can’t believe he punched Az - twice! I mean, not that I haven’t fantasized about it. In fact, I’ve fantasized about it a lot, but Az is one scary guy.” </p><p>“Dad can be scarier. Plus, he said he was a bit out of his mind back in February - he was so angry and so scared, I guess facing down Az wasn’t all that scary. But I got him to promise me that he’s going to leave Az alone. I dunno, he seemed pretty ashamed of what he did.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Kurt scoffed a laugh. “I’m sure that’ll last. Your dad is like the ultimate papa bear - he’ll tear Az apart if he has to.” </p><p>Dave closed his eyes. Something was bugging him. And he knew it had everything to do with Az and what his dad told him tonight. Az’s betrayal weighed heavily on him, but so did his dad’s actions. He scraped a hand over his face and muttered, “No, Kurt. He’s gonna do it. I think we need to see what Az is going to do, and no matter how angry dad is, he wants that too. He promised not to do anything with the scholarship - I don’t think he ever planned to, I think it was just to scare Az. Even dad wouldn’t go that far.”</p><p>And Dave believed it too. His dad was… intense, but not <em> that </em> intense.</p><p>“You know,” Kurt said quietly, “I thought Coach Sylvester was the scariest person on this planet, but I’m pretty sure it’s your dad - when he’s angry, he makes her look like a kitten.” </p><p>Dave snorted softly as the image of Sue Sylvester with cat ears and a tail popped into his head. He heard Kurt laugh, which meant he’d thought the same thing.  </p><p>The sound of Kurt’s laugh seemed to break something in Dave - an easing of tension or his fear. As always, he was so incredibly thankful for Kurt, who managed to lessen his anxiety over the bigger things - like Az. </p><p>Az had been on his mind a lot, especially since Monday. But tonight had thrown his thoughts into overdrive. And it wasn’t so much what his dad did - although that did disturb him - it had more to do with Az’s response. </p><p>
  <em> “...I’ll protect him! I’ll learn how to be better!...”   </em>
</p><p>Something about what Az had said bugged him. And on Monday, Az had defended both him and Kurt. If there was one thing Dave knew, it was that Az was not a complex person. He was, in fact, deceptively simple. Throughout their entire friendship, Dave had always been able to see through any facade that Az put up. He knew how often Az used humor as a deflection, especially when he was upset or angry, and that he used sarcasm as a defense in place of actual hurt. </p><p>So, Dave knew there was more going on with Az than anyone thought. Everyone saw a hateful asshole, but Dave saw right through that - but to what, Dave wasn’t exactly sure. Although, he was slowly starting to piece it together.</p><p>Az had given him one clue on Monday. And tonight, his dad had given Dave an even bigger clue.  </p><p>“Kurt?” He started softly.</p><p>“Yeah? What’s wrong?” </p><p>“This is going to sound insane, but just listen okay?” </p><p>“Uh, okay?”</p><p>“I think Az is trying to do right by me. His little savior act on Monday was the real deal. I really think he’s trying to show me that he has my back.” </p><p>Kurt was silent for a moment, as though he was trying to align Dave’s idea with what he knew of Az so far. And yeah, Dave knew that the two images didn’t perfectly align - unless you knew Az. Finally, Kurt sighed softly. “He’s still dangerous, Dave.” </p><p>“Hey, I’m not saying I’m gonna hit him up tomorrow to hang out and play Call of Duty or anything, I’m just saying that he’s trying to show me that he's looking out for me. I… I just know him, Kurt, I know how he works.” </p><p>“I suppose if anyone would, it’d be you. But still, maybe we need to just wait and see what happens, just to be sure. You know, before we try to be buddy-buddy with him?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure the friendship ship is currently lost at sea. So, yeah. I just want to see what he does - see whether he keeps up this whole white knight routine.”</p><p>“He did have a weird way of protecting you, Dave. Telling Blaine to back off in one breath, and insulting you in the next.”</p><p>Dave couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped him, “Well, 'princess' isn’t the worst thing I’ve been called recently…” </p><p>“Dave, don’t… his little homophobic act is a bit much. And he needs… ” Kurt’s voice was quickly hitting that high-pitched register that indicated he was extremely frustrated and upset. Dave knew he shouldn’t have taken them down this road, it wasn’t worth it. Az and the assholes like him had already caused too much damage, Dave didn’t want them encroaching on his time with Kurt. </p><p>So, before Kurt even got started, Dave decided to interrupt, “Hey, there was more to me than my little homophobic acts too, remember? So, maybe there is to him too?” </p><p>“Please don’t joke about that - one closeted bully turned best friend, turned boyfriend is enough for me.” </p><p>“I am a lot to handle…” Dave decided not to say anything about hoping he was Kurt’s <em> only </em>bully, turned best friend, turned boyfriend.</p><p>“You’re the perfect amount to handle, Dave.” </p><p>A warm blushed rushed over him, and he couldn’t stop the small giggle from escaping him. “I adore you, babe.” He’d made a promise to himself not to overwhelm Kurt with the ‘I love yous’ until Kurt said it back, he didn’t want to make him feel bad or put any undue pressure on Kurt. </p><p>But man, the moment Kurt said it, Dave was planning on hiring a skywriter. </p><p>“I adore you too, Dave. Now, tell me about your dad’s trip, and let’s leave Azimio behind for a while.” </p><p>Realization dawned and Dave suddenly sat bolt upright, “Oh shit! I didn’t tell you! How the fuck did I not <em> start </em> by telling you!?” He grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, suddenly incredibly giddy. His dad’s sexual adventures in Washington had been at the forefront of his mind until Kurt had asked about what his dad had said about Azimio. He’d been so excited to spill this tea! (Huh, look at that! He was using gay talk!)  </p><p>“What?” Kurt sounded slightly panicked, so perhaps Dave had done a bad job of sounding excited. </p><p>“My dad got laid.” </p><p>“I’m sorry… what? You and your dad have the weirdest conversations!” </p><p>“He met a woman in Washington and they <em> clearly </em> had sex.” </p><p>“Your dad told you that!?” Kurt nearly shouted. Dave knew that he was sitting up, eyes wide and incredulous. He probably had that really cute shocked expression on his face, the one where his whole face looked like the word, ‘Oh.’ Dave loved that. </p><p>“No, but the giant hickey on his neck did!” Dave grinned. He was so weirdly proud of his dad for that hickey. </p><p>There was silence for a moment like Kurt was just starting to absorb this information. Then very quietly, he heard, “What? Say that again…”</p><p>“His hickey. My dad has a huge hickey on his neck and he’s <em> super </em> embarrassed about it!” </p><p>“Oh my god.”Kurt’s voice rose in volume, as though he was barely containing his absolute glee over this news. “Oh... Yeah… okay, uh hold on!” Dave knew exactly what was happening, and the sound of Kurt getting off his bed and a door opening only confirmed it. After a second, Kurt yelled out, “Dad!!” </p><p>Dave fell back against his pillows, exploding in laughter. </p><p>Through the phone, he heard Kurt hurrying down the hallway, and the distant sound of Burt’s voice, sounding worried. </p><p>Kurt’s voice was tinny but carried all the joy Dave had expected. “Dad! Now, I’m not one to share personal secrets, but I feel obligated to share this - and I know you’ll love it. Dave’s dad came home from Washington with a huge hickey on his neck!” </p><p>There was the immediate eruption of laughter from Burt. For a moment, Dave felt bad about what was coming his dad’s way. The poor man was going to suffer because of this. </p><p>But then again, he had come home with a hickey on his neck. And, if the doe-eyed love-struck expression on his dad’s face when he talked about the woman in DC was any indication, his dad would be just fine. </p><p>Dave sat on his bed, listening to Kurt and Burt talk before Kurt fell silent again and he heard the sound of Kurt’s bedroom door closing. They were alone again.  </p><p>There was a small explosion of air as Kurt flopped back down on the bed, “Dave, I need to know everything!” </p><p>“I don’t know much more than that my dad came home with a huge love mark on his neck and kept getting this goofy grin on his face anytime I brought up DC or when he talked about this lady. But he’s super embarrassed, which I don’t get cause I think it’s sorta awesome.”  </p><p>“This is amazing. Your dad really is the coolest dad. Do you think he’ll see her again?”</p><p>Dave shrugged as though Kurt could see him. “Dunno. Maybe, he seems pretty smitten. I mean, it’s a little weird to think about dad, you know… uh, getting it on. But man, if there’s ever a guy who deserves to get the girl at the end of a movie, it’s my dad.”</p><p>“Totally! Oh, man, I bet she’s super cool too. Do you think if I came over he’d tell me about her?”</p><p>“Maybe. Or he’ll get all flustered and blush a lot like he did with me.” Dave tucked the phone against his shoulder and rolled over, sighing softly. “I miss you, Kurt.” </p><p>“I miss you too. I can’t believe we were cuddling in bed last night, that feels like it happened in a dream.” </p><p>Closing his eyes, Dave remembered what it felt like to hold Kurt in the dark of the Hummel-Hudson’s guest room. The way he smelled, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against Dave’s arms, the soft noises he made. “It wasn’t a dream, Kurt. It was one of the best nights I’ve ever had.” </p><p>“I can’t wait to do it again. God, it makes me want to drive over there right now and sneak into your bed, just so I can feel that chest against my back.” </p><p>“You know, my dad wouldn’t care…” </p><p>“Yeah, but mine would! I already got enough passive-aggressive comments about fathers knowing everything that goes on in their houses, and that I shouldn’t push boyfriends who might not be ready to be physical yet.” </p><p>“Oh god!” </p><p>“Yeah - I love how you were totally absolved from everything.” </p><p>“I am loved by everyone in your house, Kurt.” </p><p>“Tell me about it! Even Finn told me not to corrupt you! And this coming from the boy who regularly sees Rachel Berry naked!”</p><p>“That is a disgusting image, and I’m not sure my fragile mind cannot handle it.” </p><p>“No? And how can I help protect your mind.” </p><p>“Well, how about a hundred kisses tomorrow?” </p><p>He could practically hear the smile in Kurt’s voice, “Just a hundred? I think we usually hit that number even before we get to school, Dave.”   </p><p>He let a finger ghost across his lips, almost pretending it was Kurt’s lips. “Okay, how about a thousand?” </p><p>“A thousand. Deal. God, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!” </p><p>“I can’t wait either.” He glanced at the time, frowning at how late it was. He needed to go to bed, or he’d feel awful tomorrow after his antidepressant. “I don’t want to say goodnight, but I probably should, Kurt.” </p><p>“I know. I’ll pick you up in the morning?”</p><p>“I’ll be here. Ready to receive my first kiss out of a thousand.” </p><p>“You’re going to keep count, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Wouldn’t you?” </p><p>“Dork.” </p><p>Dave closed his eyes and breathed out. He loved the sound of Kurt’s voice, he loved the way Kurt made him feel… the way Kurt‘s voice echoed for hours in his head after they’d talked. He loved everything about this person. He sighed. </p><p>“You still there, Dave?”</p><p>He wanted to hold it back. He didn’t want to overwhelm Kurt with his emotions, but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes it was just too damn hard! “I love you, Kurt.” </p><p>“Oh, Dave,” Kurt whispered, his voice trembling softly. And even though he didn’t say it back,  couldn’t say it back, Dave knew that it was there. It was there in the inflection of his voice - in the tenor and small tremble of his words. He just needed to give Kurt time. </p><p>“Okay,” Dave said, still in that hushed voice, “I’m going to go to sleep now. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”</p><p>“Bright and early. Remember, we need to stop for coffee before getting to school.”</p><p>Smiling, Dave nodded, already excited about feeling Kurt in his arms while they made out in the Lima Bean parking lot. He had a pretty good idea of what he was going to be dreaming about tonight. With that image swimming in front of his eyes, he whispered, “Goodnight, babe.” </p><p>“Goodnight, Dave.” </p><p>He dropped the phone on the bedside table and heaved himself off the bed. He yanked off his tank top and tossed it over his desk chair on his way into his bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror,  taking in his large body. He forced himself to ignore the immediate wave of disgust he felt at the sight of his large stomach and flabby chest. </p><p>He was hairy, which he didn’t mind, especially since Kurt said he liked it and it. Plus, it kind of confirmed that he was a bonafide member of the bear community. But what he didn’t like was how fat he still felt. Even with Finn, Sam, and Puck dragging him to the gym all the time, Dave still felt like he was ninety percent flab. </p><p>He gripped his belly and gave it a shake, wincing at how his entire body seemed to jiggle slightly. He prodded at the stretch marks around his waist, shuddering in repulsion. His whole body was unsightly and gross. Maybe tomorrow he’d ask Finn if they could start going to the gym <em> more </em> often. And, hell, maybe he’d even get his dad to start going too. </p><p>
  <em> “You’re not fat - you’re perfect, Dave.” </em>
</p><p>Kurt’s voice from last night popped into his head. Kurt - the only person who could help Dave see himself as something other than a giant blob. Kurt, whose careful and soft reassurances always made Dave feel so much better about himself. </p><p>Kurt. His boyfriend. </p><p>Dave stared at his reflection, a frown line creasing his forehead as he realized something. “How can he be my boyfriend when I haven’t even taken him on a date yet!?” His voice was muffled by his electric toothbrush. </p><p>He and Kurt had been dating for pretty much a week now, and somehow Dave hadn’t even broached the idea of a date! That was fucking ridiculous! </p><p>Well, that was changing tomorrow. Tomorrow was Friday. Date night! And Dave Karofsky was taking his boyfriend on one hell of a date - he was about to make sure Kurt knew what being wined and dined was all about! He was about to get the Karofsky experience. </p><p>February was going to be child’s play compared to what was coming. Although he might need a little help, so it was time to talk to Finn… and maybe see if he could use his dad’s credit card a little.  </p><p>Dave gave himself a toothpaste smile, yeah - it was time to let the romantic monster back out. </p><p>“Kurt’s not gonna know what hit him!” </p><hr/><p>
  <b>{Paul}</b>
</p><p>With a small explosion of steam following in his wake, Paul stepped into his bedroom from his ensuite, filling the room with the smell of Old Spice body wash. He tossed his towel into his hamper and pulled open his dresser.</p><p>“Well, shit.” He’d completely forgotten to do any laundry before leaving for Washington and Dave certainly wasn’t about to do it unless asked. Which meant, he had no more boxer shorts. Groaning, he decided to just forgo pajamas tonight and climbed naked on the bed.  </p><p>The sensation of being in his own bed was phenomenal. He stretched out like a starfish and sank into the softness of the mattress and duvet, sighing softly. He was caught in this strange in-between place - bone-tired, but also so incredibly relaxed. All the energy had been sapped out of him but in a really good and satisfying way. </p><p>He lay there quietly for a moment, eyes closed and listening to the sound of the air conditioner, the gentle drip of his shower, and the quiet murmur of Dave’s voice talking on the phone in his room. It was good to hear Dave’s voice - he’d really missed it. And even though he knew his son was telling Kurt everything - what had happened with Azimio and Paul’s romantic escapades in DC - it was good to hear that deep rumble filling the house. </p><p>Paul hoped to feel sleep creeping at the edge of his brain, but he was oddly too wound up for sleep. Despite knowing that he needed sleep, his body seemed to have other ideas.</p><p>“Dammit.” He muttered, annoyed at the fact that fifteen minutes ago, his body had been totally ready for sleep - he’d been falling asleep in the shower - but now that he was actually in bed, sleep was eluding him.  </p><p>It had been an exhausting couple of days. And although he’d slept last night, it had not been long enough, plus there was everything he’d done before and after the sleeping that wore him out. He and Michelle had fallen asleep sometime after one, only to wake up less than seven hours later. And it had not been a lazy morning… Plus, their pre-bed activities were quite… vigorous. And he’d managed to repeat those same activities at least four times today alone. </p><p>Not bad for a forty-four-year-old. </p><p>But fuck, he was exhausted. And sore. All the same, though, he felt amazing. Stretching, a lazy smile spread over his face as he remembered last night. And this morning. And then this afternoon.  </p><p>If he wasn’t so damn tired, he might laugh. This was ridiculous! He felt like a man decades younger, and he’d been almost constantly aroused since he and Michelle had gotten to his room last night. And every time she popped into his head, his hand wanted to wander south. He was starting to get a bit confused about who was actually the teenager in the house. </p><p>Poking again at the hickey on his neck, he blushed over Dave’s teasing earlier. Dave’s support and sheer joy over this whole thing had been surprising. Not only had Dave’s teasing felt good-natured, but he seemed really curious and happy about Michelle. Which meant that it was damn obvious just how smitten he was. </p><p>Because, holy fuck, Paul was incredibly smitten with that woman. </p><p>As he heard a loud burst of laughter from Dave’s room, he wondered what they were talking about. If they were laughing, it was a pretty sure bet that Dave wasn’t talking about Azimio. Which was probably a good thing - he wanted Dave to stop thinking about Az or what had happened in February. Dave deserved that. He needed to heal and move on. </p><p>Of course, Paul hadn’t really stopped thinking about Az. Not since February. The guilt and regret hung heavily on him. What he’d done… disgusted him. It had been, to use Linda’s vernacular, a sin. And it made Paul feel dirty. </p><p>But he’d done it all to protect Dave. Everything had been for Dave. Paul’s sole intention - in taking down Thurston and Nick Thomson, and going after Az - had all been to build a bubble of protection around Dave. But with Az, it felt like he’d crossed a line. </p><p>There were times when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Az’s terrified face, begging him not to take his scholarship away. That moment - hearing Az’s anguish - he knew he’d gone too far. There were a million things he should have done - he should have talked to Samantha. He should have waited to go to the Adams’ house, instead of running in there while still nearly out of his mind with anxiety and grief. He should have… been a better person. </p><p>Az had been like his second son, which should have warranted… something. A chance to explain or to sit down and just talk! </p><p>Paul didn’t want to hate Az. Paul didn’t want to hate anyone - except perhaps Nick Thompson and those idiots at Thurston, but could he give Az a second chance? Could Dave give Az a second chance? </p><p>And did Az even want - or deserve one?</p><p>
  <em> ...I’ll protect him… </em>
</p><p>Paul’s eyes snapped open. Az’s actions on Monday - they were not those of a boy who was washing his hands of Dave but suggested the hope of someone wanting to find forgiveness. Was Az trying to redeem himself? Trying to change? And would that be enough? </p><p>His head hurt. This was not what he wanted to dwell on. “Okay, enough now.” </p><p>Rolling over, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. He didn’t want to think about Az anymore tonight. If he kept this up, he’d never get to sleep. So, he’d think about Washington and the beautiful woman he’d met there. That would help him relax. </p><p>Glancing at his phone, he saw a brand new message from Burt, but it was Michelle’s messages that got his full attention. His stomach did an actual flip and he couldn’t keep a goofy smile off of his face. </p><p>When he opened his messages, Burt’s stood out - mostly because of the man’s inability to text properly. This message, as usual, was filled with unintentionally hilarious mistakes. Although, its intent - to make fun of Paul - was very clear. </p><p>
  <em>i aM very excited about bears toMorrow - SO i can admire your hickey myself </em>
</p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake, Dave.” Paul groaned. He was sure his son had barely contained his glee in telling Kurt all about his dad’s love mark. And he was absolutely certain that Kurt had raced down the hall - regardless of whether Burt was asleep or not - screaming, “Mr. Karofsky has a hickey!” </p><p>Goddamn teenagers. </p><p>He wrote back, <em> My son should not be telling your son my secrets! </em>Although he did laugh at the misspelling of beers - he would have to tell Dave in the morning. Dave was a member of the bear community, or whatever… which Paul still found weird.   </p><p>He needed to push aside all of this - no more Az, no more Burt or Dave, and their teasing. He wanted - needed - to just focus on something that made him happy. So, with a slight increase to his heartbeat, he tapped on Michelle’s texts. </p><p>
  <em> Hello handsome Paul, I’m glad you’re home safe. I’m sorry about the badge of sexual honor - I hope your son didn’t give you too a hard time.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hope you’re having a good evening with your son. Would it be uncouth of me to say that I miss you?  </em>
</p><p>But he actually groaned at the last one, mainly because of the intense rush of blood to his groin. The image it evoked was so alluring. </p><p>
  <em> I’m lying in bed - it smells you. Text me when you can.  </em>
</p><p>God this was insane, but he actually missed her! How was it possible that In less than twenty-four hours, this younger woman had etched such a place in his heart that he missed her? He wanted to be with her right now - to bury his face in her long hair. He wanted her in this bed with him, just so he could press his lips to her skin. </p><p>To feel her body against his. </p><p>She had pushed past his defenses and insecurities like they were nothing. All of the hurts and wounds that Linda had inflicted over the course of their marriage, Michelle had managed to salve over. </p><p>Even the age difference - the moment she had kissed him and yanked his clothes off, he just forgot to care. The way she touched him and encouraged him to touch her had given him the confidence to forget he was a forty-four-year-old single dad with emotional scarring. Instead, he felt like someone renewed and youthful. Someone who could keep up with her, and, if the last twenty-four hours were any indication, he was more than capable! </p><p>He poised his fingers over the keyboard but realized that he was a forty-four-year-old single dad and he really didn’t want to lie here texting all night. He tapped on the little phone icon next to her name. It rang twice. </p><p>“Hello, handsome Paul!” Her voice was soft and floral, he practically whimpered at the sound of it. </p><p>“Hello, Beautiful. How are you?” </p><p>There was the small whisper of a sigh, “I’m certainly better now. How are you?”</p><p>“Exhausted. I’m lying in bed. I’m too tired to even put pjs on. It has been a very long day - fantastic, but long.” </p><p>He heard a pause and a very soft huff of laughter. “That means you’re naked - we’ll come back to that, I think.” </p><p>“I… I, uh…” Paul felt himself blush deeply, he wasn’t quite prepared for her to jump straight into anything sexual over the phone. As much as she turned him on, he’d need to work up to something like <em>that</em>. How did one even go about doing <em> that </em>?</p><p>She laughed at his awkwardness. “Don’t get flustered, Handsome.” There was the sound of rustling, as though she was getting settled. She sighed softly, “You know, I wish we could’ve had time for a bit of a nap this afternoon.” </p><p>Determined to sound confident, but failing miserably, he muttered. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at...uh...phone stuff.” He paused, catching his breath before continuing, “And for the record, I enjoyed everything we did - so I have no regrets.” </p><p>God, if Burt ever found out about this… he’d never hear the end of it. </p><p>Her laughter was loud and joyful, exactly what he needed. Through her laughter, she said quietly, “Let’s put a pin in the phone sex talk for the evening, but we can certainly talk more about that… if you like.” </p><p>Feeling like a complete moron, he threw an arm over his face and said, “I’d… uh, need practice!” He was willingly admitting to wanting phone sex with her! Good lord, he really had become a teenager again!</p><p>She laughed again, “Well, practice makes perfect, I suppose. Maybe we can learn together.” </p><p>He nodded and muttered, “Okay. I… I think I would like that.” Jesus!</p><p>“So, moving on from embarrassing you further. Do you really have no regrets?”</p><p>“Not a single one, Michelle.” </p><p>“Not even the hickey?” She said, and her tone was enough to make him gently stroke the bruise, remembering how hot her mouth had felt on his skin.</p><p>Grunting a little and trying to push down his growing arousal, he muttered, “Well, considering both my son and best friend are making fun of me for the hickey, I might regret the hickey a little.” </p><p>“I hope they are being nice to you. Otherwise, I might have to come and give them a stern talking to.” </p><p>Paul smiled, thinking that he would not be too upset if that happened. He muttered his agreement, relishing in the sound of her voice.</p><p>“Tell me,” she asked, “how is your son?” </p><p>“Good - we had a nice long talk tonight.”</p><p>“That’s wonderful! Was Dave with his boyfriend, like you guessed? And what did you talk about?”</p><p>“No, Kurt was with his dad. Dave was just watching Star Wars - a very common occurrence in this house. And we talked about what happened with his ex-best friend.”</p><p>“Oh?” Michelle had been sympathetic and incredibly understanding when he told her about what happened with Az. She had, in fact, been furious on Dave’s behalf. “Was he alright? And, are you alright?” </p><p>He ran his hand gently across the duvet cover, wishing it was her. “Good, I think. Dave was quite taken aback but did make me promise to just leave things be with Azimio for a while, which might be for the best. Dave thinks Az might be protecting him - watching out for him or something. So, we’re gonna just see what happens.” </p><p>“I get the feeling that you’re not exactly going to just sit by and let that happen… even if it means there’s one more person looking out for Dave. Despite the boy’s backward ideas.”</p><p>Paul stared up at the ceiling, very much wanting to talk about <em>anything </em>else, as long as it did not involve Azimio. He sighed, “I suppose.” He could already feel the sense of regret, over what had happened, encroaching on his mood. Threatening to turn this fun and flirty conversation into something he didn’t want… </p><p>“Are you okay, Paul?” </p><p>He closed his eyes again, hoping that she would not be upset with him, “Michelle? Can we talk about something other than this - I’ve spent a great deal of time tonight discussing Azimio Adams and I’d really like to just… talk to you. Please?”</p><p>He heard her breathe out, long and slow, almost as though she wanted to carefully select her next words. “Of course! We shall talk about anything you like - I want to hear all about the enigma that is Paul Karofsky.” </p><p>Paul laughed. “I’m hardly an enigma - quite straightforward, actually. But, tonight I’m going to insist that you tell me about yourself. You’ve asked me so many questions since last night. So I want to know what you did tonight, while I was being made fun of by my son?” </p><p>He could almost hear her shrug, “I had a large salad for dinner while watching a documentary about art forgeries. Then read my book in a bubble bath with some red wine.” </p><p>Paul closed his eyes and smiled. “I wish I could have joined you.” </p><p>Michelle took a small breath as if she was about to say something more. But then she fell silent. He could hear her breathing softly, thinking. Finally, after what felt like a very long time, she asked, in that breathless tone that made him feel warm all over, “Paul?”</p><p>“Yes, Beautiful?”</p><p>“I know we’ve barely met and have only really known each other for a day, but I think I rather like you…” </p><p>“I like you too, Michelle.” </p><p>“Good. And, well, as I said at the airport, I’d like to keep getting to know you. If you’re interested.”</p><p>Paul let his eyes close again. And his entire being was taken up by her. Her gentle smile. The kind and confident way she’d held him. The way her mouth felt against his and the way her body responded to him. The way she laughed at his jokes. </p><p>Before he said anything, he pulled back the covers of his bed and slipped between the cool sheets. Then, as he settled against his pillows, he said. “Total honesty here, okay? I come with some baggage. An ex-wife who has damaged my family. A son who is still figuring himself out, but is the most important thing in my life. But you make me feel… very special. So, if you’re okay with the baggage, then I’d very much like to keep getting to know each other.” </p><p>She sighed, but the smile was evident in her voice when she spoke. “I think you’ll be surprised at how good I am at handling baggage. And I’m so glad I met you. Now, I insist on you telling me something that’ll make me smile.” </p><p>He laughed softly. “It’ll probably be about my son - he’s what makes me smile the most these days. Well, him and this beautiful woman in Washington DC.” </p><p>She laughed again, “That made me smile. Thank you.” </p><p>“Now you. Tell me something that will make me smile. Tell me about your day tomorrow, so when I inevitably start thinking about you, I’ll know what to imagine.”</p><p>She laughed. He was pretty sure that he was going to become addicted to that laugh, it was so deep and soft and utterly perfect. Then, in a voice thick with amusement, she said, “Only if I get to hear about your day tomorrow in return!”</p><p>“Deal.” </p><p>“Okay then, well, I’ll probably wake up late as I usually do and not have enough time to eat, so I’ll stop at this lovely little cafe, Emissary, near work…” </p><p>Paul lay there and let her voice carry him. It was like slipping into a perfectly cooled lake - refreshing and reviving. He felt his muscles relax and ease into the sensation of her voice. </p><p>Michelle was a surprise - the best surprise he’d had in a very long time. And, although he had no idea what was coming or whether this was going to be something real or strong enough to withstand the months ahead, he was so excited to find out how she fits into his life. And into Dave’s.  </p><p>As he listened, he could feel the person he’d once been - fun, wild, spontaneous, and deeply romantic - start to flutter back to life. And that was a person he wanted to let loose with Michelle and show her everything he was and everything he could be. </p><p>And maybe, everything <em>they </em>could be. </p><p>He was forty-four years old, and it had been a long time since someone had shown any interest in him, so he wasn’t about to let this go to waste. Michelle was going to be wooed as no one had ever been wooed before. </p><p>Paul Karofsky had hidden his romantic side for a long time, well he was about to let the romantic monster out to play, which meant Michelle would have no idea what hit her.  </p><p>And it was going to be amazing. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title: Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Queen (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18sbJPKCo7Y)</p><p>Sorry for the long delay between chapters - I'm going to try to update a bit more regularly. I hope you're all still enjoying this and don't mind that Paul is becoming a central character. But that's where my muse has taken me! </p><p>Consider this the end of Part I of Darling, Part II will start in the next chapter - will enough fluff to choke on.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title: Donovan Woods, "Clean Slate"</p><p>This is an old story I started writing a few years ago, but  I've decided to revamp it into something a little different than I originally intended.</p><p>The story follows Dave's story right up until On My Way and then diverges sharply. This story is told as one long flashback and deals with Dave finding his road to recovery with a little help from his friend(s). It is heavily Kurt/Dave romance centered. My ship is always Dave/Happiness! Most of the action is in 2012. </p><p>I have a lot of other projects - plus a tenure application to write - so I will try to update once a week. I hope you enjoy. </p><p>Title taken form Stereophonics, "Don't Let The Devil Take Another Day"</p></blockquote></div></div>
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